Futility

The dawning futility of the argument made me fight against it. I knew it was a battle I would never win, but this fact made me more desperate, more determined to somehow win. It explained everything, but made me fight nonetheless. His shark-like grin as I turned by back, attempting to hide the tears of despair arising in my heart...this moment seems to hold the answer. Passion versus cunning. The cunning will marshall any argument, any rationale, even if devoid of research, meaning, evidence. Passion--at least in my body--demands commitment, demands real, "proof," evidence, the everyday in which we live from which this grows. To hear it dismissed aches in a way dismissal of lives only can. Maybe this is the issue. Game versus survival. The obvious evades.

What also gnaws me is the lack of respect, which the other will condescendingly acknowledge at best. At worst, ignore.
Am I a puppet too? Sigh. Back to the rehearsal room.