Confessions of a Radical Centrist

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Shadow
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Why must I have an opinion?

Political stands are glandular, and my glands have deteriorated.

I once propounded the truth, but it stood in the way of the facts.

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I wrote reams of polemics, convinced of their rightness—

But then I made the mistake of seeing things from all sides.

This was objectivity—glorious, liberating, multi-faceted reality.

Then I realized that I could never again be right without also being
wrong.

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Pity God for such a perspective—it must drive Him crazy.

Well, I asked for it too—and I got it—and I don’t get it.

My adrenalin doesn’t convince me any more of any one thing.

I may understand an issue,

But I will defend to the death my right not to feel any one way about it.

I wave the proud banner of Indecision,

With none to fight me but true believers on both sides.

I sit firmly on the fence, with its spikes tearing up my ass.

I think, therefore I am, I think.

But I don’t think—I open my brain and let the sunshine seep in—

And manage to piss off everyone with an axe to grind.

I absorb, therefore I absorb.

Why do I not care? Why will I not mark “true” or “false” with
conviction?

Why is my heart hollow of all momentum?

I am an empty shell that is merely aware.

Is this enlightenment,

Or is this hell? —Andy Senior (3/6/1996)


Note: this was written long before Radical Centrism became a political ideology with its own Wiki page.

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