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Ridiculous Child

I don't want to live my life arguing over people and objects.

I don't want to live my life arguing.

I guess that's easier to say on the other side of throwing away or consuming most of Stassney's stuff. In a lot of ways it's not, though.

I could always find something else. I could always be looking for something else. There's infinite potential to argue. There's a thousand things a day to be angry about, if not more. Just for me. What do I want to choose?

Arguing is a choice.

For a very long time it did not feel that way. Even now, I'm sure it's still compulsory. I know it is a choice. In my head. I know I don't have to participate. In this one section of my brain that knows things when I am calm, I know I don't have to fight.

That same part of my head knows that happiness can be a choice, too. Settle. Be humble. Sit down. Make your choice.

For a very long time I believed that I shouldn't allow myself to be slighted. I shouldn't let …

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