This is also why I cannot, dare not, WILL not express my pain or my grief when life wounds me or takes from me someone I love. Grief too easily leads to despair. In the fertile ground of despair, self-pity can sprout and thrive. I can't begin to indulge in self-pity, because by enumerating and dwelling upon my limitations, I will be digging a hole so deep that I'll never again be able to crawl out of it. I've got to be somewhat cold to survive, live with a chinkless shell around my heart at least when it comes to grieving for the dead. I'm able to express my love for the living, to embrace my friends without reservation, to give my heart without concern for how it might be abused. But on the day one dies, I can't risk — WON'T risk — descending from grief to despair to self-pity and, finally, to the pit of inescapable rage and loneliness and self-hatred. I can't love the dead too much. No matter how desperately I want to remember them and hold them dear, I have to let them go — and quickly. I have to push them out of my heart.
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This quote was added September 11, 2007.