Whatever your despair, pair with the light, pair with love, and new track will emerge.
The deepest of despair will fashion the strongest of believers, for when there is no other way out but to ask for the love of the divine, for a light to shine upon a way to better times, you call and there comes an answer.
Belief is when there is no reason to hope, when despair sets in, and yet you hold fast to a certainty that it is worth seeking the light, even if you have never seen it.
What I need will never come and no matter how much I seek I won't find it. I wasn't born for great things, nor to find my place in the sun. I could try every day, work for what I want and need, but there are no paths to success, not from here. People talk as if I dream my way out, simply discover a version of me that only sees the opportunities and ignores the noise, the distractions and the people who only say "no" because they don't believe in themselves, so how can they believe in me? So take away the well meant words, the songs that don't help and the smiles that aren't real... call it despair if you want, but something fake hurts more than anything.
There was hope before. Just a tiny flicker agains the wind. With the open eyes of a child I reached out, fingers extended. In that moment you had a choice of kindness or cruelty; it took no time at all for you to decide. You saw that dying ember and brought the winds to a cold howl. How is your thinking so different from my own, so alien? How is it you see the suffering and choose to make it all the worse?
I sit in the pit that has become my world, the only decorations my own nail marks on the walls I cannot scale. Though I know there is light at the top it feels a million miles away and, were it not for him being down here with me, I wouldn't even try. Every time I reach out with love to someone up there, someone I hope can throw a rope, the floor sinks a little lower, jolting my body as it stops - crushing me with a new pain, another abandonment. Perhaps now is the time to realize it isn't me I'm supposed to get out, it's him. And so I let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness he has dwelled in these many years and see that intermingled with the marks of my own nails are his too, older though, the blood long dried. And then I know, he gave up because there was nothing else for him to do and that the best day of his life was when I fell in there with him, our tears running together. I'll get him out, if it's the last thing I ever do, I will. Because that's how I know I can love like I was born to, that I can put another first even when my winter is at its darkest. For I am never truly empty, when I spend my last "penny," I always get just one more. This is how I know who I am, and so even this despairing pain can be seen as a gift, a chance to know what I'm made of - to earn my own respect.
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