sacrificing wounded animals to leeches

"I guess that’s just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up." - Lauren Oliver

Why do we do it? What's the point? Is it care that compels us, to push us to even give a fuck? We sacrifice what we love; our desires, our hopes, our dreams, what matters and what we want, for others continuously. Does this make us a better person that we choose to be persecuted a certain way, that we choose to yield for others in order for them to advance.

I find it disturbing the sacrifices we make for people who could care less of us, what matters to them most is not what we give up but what they gain. Greed grasp its petty hands through so much good in this world that, so many people will see the sight of sacrifice and take advantage of it like a wounded animal. A disgusting sight to see as they press slowly but surely on another, feeding perhaps lies or half truths in order for you to sacrifice more of your time and energy for them. Like a leech feeding in your sleep, you don't see it happening, but slowly and surely you're feeling fatigued and restless.

Though belief in your sacrifices strengthens your cause, perhaps it may seem worthless, or perhaps our sacrifices left in vain in some sense. What does it matter when all hope is lost right? Hope; man's greatest strength and weakness. Remember though, it is our greatest strength. To some resolve and in some mysterious way, our hope powers our sacrifices, what we give up is never truly left in vain, something is always brought out of it, as if a sacrifice were planting some sort of seed through a storm and then suddenly at the final calm it has birthed some kind of spectacular flower, something to be proud of, something noteworthy of the sacrifices made.

"Circles my friend but have you finally figured out my circles?" - Ryan D.

I apologize if this video absolutely has nothing to do with anything I'm saying, and I apologize for the mystique and stupidity and hypocrisy in my writing today.. . Maybe we'll hit it tomorrow.