And even my weakness, I despise for the wrong reasons. It’s not a question of whether or not it should be despised, in that I have made up my own mind, and each attempt to shake me from the familiar stranglehold is met with more than barred teeth. You don’t understand at all. Even for this, I fought.
For precious little, I fought.
The microcosmic narrative into which I waded, eventually escaping the chill of the air, for this I fought.
And I despise my weakness for other reasons.