I yam what I yam. At some point, I had to accept that as much as I would like to be some ominous, unrelenting force of masculinity, I’m too self-critical to sustain that pose. It’s in my nature to question everything, including the justice of my actions or demands, and it’s through that annoying little crack/gaping hole in my implacability that mercy and indulgence seep in.
I don’t want to be feared if I can’t be loved.