Title: Optional

Text: What was I crying about, you see, was not self pity. I was crying with the knowledge that I'd be going to Vietnam, that I was essentially a coward. I couldn't go to Canada. Given what I believed, anyway, the right thing would have been to follow your conscience, and I couldn't do it. Some of it had to do with raw embarrassment, a fear of blushing. A fear of some old farmer in my town saying to another farmer, "Did you hear what the O'Brien kid did? The sissy went to Canada." Jeder Absatz wird ein Test sein.

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