cry.

"Cry the beloved country, for the unborn child that
is the inhertitor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him
not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too
silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too
moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to
a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too
much."

I have always heard that I was weird, and this is a claim that I no longer deny. But recently I am hearing the description weird being replaced with crazy. As in "Yo Mike, you're going crazy." or "You need to take medicine, you crazy bastard." I do not deny this claim either. So then I began to think about what is the cause of this impending insanity. I know why people think I'm going bannanas. The consensus is that I "over-think" life. I rather not go into my actions that lead people to beleive this, but if you know me, you have a pretty good idea. My peers have their ideas: my Gilman education, my father, my overall Singleton Heritage, the fact that I live in Baltimore, among others. They might be right. Last night I came up with the reason for my off-center mindset. I love too many. Too much. Too deeply.

People who have known me in recently years, or on a cursory basis may notice a bitterness, a seeming deep resentment for life in general. This is true. What has to be realized however is that love and hate go hand in hand. The capacity to hate is only achieved by those with the capacity to love. My resentment seems so strong because my love runs deeply. Gift and Curse alike. I hate this world as it stands because I love what it has the potential to be. I have heeded the warning of the above quote. I have refused to love anymore a people that seemed destined for demise. I have refused to love a land that is defiled. For I have a fear that these things will be taken away from me. A destroyed people, a barren land, a seemingly inevitable outcome. Bitterness removed the fear. I despised the world around me because that hate allowed detachment. I was no longer afraid because I now hated those things I once loved. Destroyed, defiled, debased, ruined, spoiled, it all could come to fruition, and it wouldn't matter to me. Or so I thought. The fact of the matter is that there is no way I can turn it off. I have to care for this world, because if I do not, who will? Not to look at it with resentment, but with understanding. I want to be better than I am, I want people to be better than they are, I want this world to be better than it is. I will cry out for this change. I began writing this to prove to myself, and to others that I was not insane. I do not think I was successful. Know this is my struggle, my joy and my hope, my depression and elation. But the fear is gone at least.

Your love is too thick,
Sethe.

Love is or it isn't, Paul D.
Thin love ain't no love at all.