Let it be said, "The Quality of Mercy is not Strained". Once it becomes a strain, what is it? Ruined? Or maybe a necessary evil, in and of itself. What truth is in mercy, what mercy in truth?
It is time of the month after all though. I think it's full moon tonight, so the worst of the Lunar effects are about to pass, but the cruelest time is yet to come, I fear. My indestructibility wavers at this most delicate time, and to be honest I'm forgetting how to be a functioning human being. It's more trouble than it's worth at the best of times, but this is getting silly. In my short time on this forsaken rock, I have found out, usually the hard way that communication is the only real way forward. As long as the veil of silence can be parted, dead ends are opened, the crooked made straight and the rough places plain. Silence isn't golden.
But can everything be solved by talking? Sometimes action and good faith are required. Not to mention patience. The way you move is a mystery. But then again, I have, and will always believe that there is another way. What this other way is at the moment is a complete mystery, to use the term again. It will reveal itself in due time.
Why do I have to wait? Because the quality of mercy is not strained. And by not waiting so far, I am straining at the bounds of mercy. There's still time. As long as I don't break completely in the intervening age, there is still time. I will not surrender or give up, not while I'm only shattered. Even then, I think that part of me would survive the reset that looks more likely every day. An immutable part of my genetic heritage, or I would want it to be. I've never given up, and I'll be damned if I start now. Or maybe I'll be damned if I don't give up?
I just can't say anything at all.
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