From the luxury of my perch, I can philosophize that even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good. For I have not known true suffering, I think; I know not what it means for things to be “that bad”. Armchair martyrs, we — are we actually going to decree unto the world what is right and wrong, in absolute terms, and think that we know what it means when those in true desperation compromise? Shall we ask for laurels of heroic stature for the most petty of deeds we do good? For the most part, we are, I think, completely unaware of the tragedies that exist in the world. We may even hear them on the news, and think for a moment, “How sad,” but we will not think on them one moment more. We can only postulate, as I do now, that they exist. Let me, so, just say this for us, we who live life in padded comfort, to those who do know what adversity really is: I have absolutely no idea what it means, the word pain, and let me never claim I do; I am at a loss to understand how you can go on as you do; forgive me for ever pretending at nobility, as if I could ever compare it with what you withstood; and thank you from this conscience, who knows most probably that none of you will ever read this, for giving me someone — you! — to look up to.
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