It is only fitting, and thus no reason for me to bawl over, that the fate of those who believe is a life that one must endure, a life that must be lived.
Even as a child, I have always believed most in the certainty of one, and that is me.
It is not that I shun the presence of those around me. Rather, it is when I started seeing the balance of hope and despair on those who love me that I vowed unto myself that I would always nurture the same balance that exist within me.
At times I try to remember when it began that I started believing and living a life wherein I knew with the utmost certainty, as a saint would believe in a god, that I was always to be alone.
It was not a life of shunning those around, as I have said, nor did it mean that they shunned me, for as I have also said, and I will always claim this, I have been loved to the levels many men would never know about. What it was, and I know this will always be, is about believing in myself, that I would matter, that I would be worthy even if I am to be judged from the scrutiny of my own brutal honesty.
It is about making the most about myself, for what could I share to you if I was nothing more than a facsimile of someone else, or just a cliché of a line, or just a cardboard character?
But then, intention and outcome, as has been pointed out to me, rarely go hand in hand.
And so it must be, that the fate of those who believe is a life that has to be lived.
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