Re: Soliloquy
Let me apologize to begin with. Let me apologize for what I’m about to say. But trying to be genuine is harder than it seems, and somehow I got caught up in between. Between my pride and my promise. Between my lies and how the truths get in the way. Things I want to say to you get lost before they come. The only thing that’s worse is one is done. But here’s the thing: Abortion is sometimes necessary, sometimes not, but always sad. It is to the woman as war is to the man—a living sacrifice in a cause justified or not justified, as the observer may decide. It is the making of hard decisions—that this one must die that that one can live in honor and decency and comfort. Women have no leaders, of course; a woman’s conscience must be her General. There are no stirring songs that makes the task of killing easier, no victory marches and medals handed around afterwards, merely a sense of loss. And just as in wars there are ghouls, vampires, profiteers and grave-robbers as w