Right

I sit and stare in to the ether and the edges of my field of vision go fuzzy yet the centre of my stare stays crisp and rigid. I am thinking to myself could I be wrong but knowing all the while that I'm right. My belief in my being right is concrete. But being right is only ever useful if those around you accept the fact. Denial is common. What use is being right if you're told you are wrong? Maybe its not about being right, but maybe life is about grey and greyer. My chest aches with the words I hold back for fear of angering but I know I'm right so why even bother pushing my point. I should embrace the grey, celebrate in its cloudiness and hide among its puffs. I can still be right in there too can't I?