...used to rip into me in just such a way that I was left incapacitated. Now, they just tear me up inside. Maybe I bottle it up. I don't say anything anymore. Maybe I have been censored.
Sure, I'm crazy, but I should be allowed to be crazy especially when it's the most honest thing I can do. It angers me slightly that I feel so inclined to ask you if it's ok that I be 'crazy'. There was a time when I would have vehemently opposed requesting permission, but I've changed. Maybe I've calmed down, come to my senses, or stopped caring - one of the three.
I used to fear that your compulsion to censor me was indicative of your true inner dislike of who I am. Then I started to consider it your expression of a parental sort of love for me - one where you want only the best for me and so offer your advice through all of my missteps and misgivings. I supposed it just got on my nerves when I didn't feel that my actions were "missteps and misgivings". Unfortunately, I rather like who I am, my decisions, and am proud of my actions.
But now I just don't care. I don't know if I am offended. I don't know if I should be. I don't care to take up arms against you. I don't know if this should worry me. I don't know if I should be happy that we're not arguing about these stupid things or worried about what my indifference suggests...