The pain. How can I describe the pain? The pain of living and feeling and loving. There is nothing, without pain. No joy, now healing. And no love.
I am one of those stupid people who still believes in hope, and goodness, and the power of love. I believe that passion can save nations, and a prayer can change the will or fate. I cry when I hurt. I'm crying now. I always hurt inside, because I know. I know what it means to love and to lose, to try and to fail. And I know what it means to move on.
Am I foolish? Maybe. Am I a dreamer? Certainly. I dream of that better tomorrow we were always promised. That great golden dawn, that brilliant revelation. I believe in it with all of my heart and being. I have to. What else is there, when hope is gone? When all illusions have been stripped away, and ideals and constructs lay battered and bruised with no where to hide? How can anyone look into the void and not at least cringe? How can anyone look into the desolate blackness and not feel their soul scream?
My soul has screamed too much. I've glanced at the void, and turned my eyes away. I shut out the hurt and the anger. The void is full of every evil deed ever done, every betrayal, every wrongdoing. My souls has cried out for hours on end. I am raw inside, and the only salve I have is my hope and my faith. Tomorrow will be better, for the pure and simple reason that it is tomorrow. The sun will rise, and life will go on. I have seen enough good in this world to counter the bad, and that is enough to keep me going.
I have stumbled, and I will again. I will lose sight of the path, but I'll find it again. I am a fighter, as well as a dreamer. I take my pain, make it a part of me, and let it sink into the void. I banish the lies and the strikes and the deceptions, and I cleanse myself. I skirt the edge of the blackness from time to time, but the suns light will always draw me back.