Caught Between a Rock, and a Tough Place.

Dealing with moral dilemas have never been part of my strong suit. And yet that is exactly what I need to do. The reflection of my past actions towards my accademics have led me to believe that for the time being, the blunt expression of opinions should be perhaps put on hold; that I should succumb to the temptations of a better letter grade. But by doing this I will have gone against my ideals of free-speech. I need my voice, but it has not done me any good. For the first time in a long while, I was on earth again, feet planted, feeling the pressure of reality and society, slowly crushing me bit by bit. And as the days drag on I find myself unable to come to terms with such injustice, further increasing my urge to rebel against such incredulous hypocracy that exists in my English classroom.

But is that all it is now? Am I solely writing for the sake of a rebellion of vanity? Does my writing really, truly mean anything, or is it all the work of a man clouded with his own folly and pride?

I am caught between a rock, and a tough place, with no levers to help roll the rock away, or guts to pass through a direct confrontation. I have no where to go, and am simply turning round and round in a vicious cycle of self pity, delusions and utmost loathing.

I am caught, with nothing but the act of treachery. Treachery upon myself.