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@ -4,7 +4,7 @@ That is the thing about hate, about loathing, even of oneself. There is a certai
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> I wish I could see your triumph.\footnote{\cite[128]{timewar}}
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You! This other version of me, this one who takes her space gladly, proudly. I wish I could see you triumph. I wish I could look up at you, broken and shattered, bleeding in the dust of unknown plains, and know --- truly, utterly know --- that I have been defeated, that I have been crushed and destroyed.
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You! This other version of me, this one who takes her space gladly, proudly. I wish I could see you triumph. I wish I could look up at you, broken and shattered, bleeding in the dust of some ultimately unimportant ground, and know --- truly, utterly know --- that I have been defeated, that I have been crushed and destroyed.
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I wish I could see your triumph. Is that self-sacrificing of me? Of that part that loathes, that fears she is taking up too much space? I really don't know. It's not my place to know these things.
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