I can survive anything if I feel loved, even these pains that come to explode within, these silent hand grenades. With kindness I can make it, with compassion there is grace. And when you smile at me you are my heroine, my morphine, finer than any doctor can prescribe.
I know there's an emotional gun to your head, and still you think of me and others. I know how it feels in your heart, like an invisible arm reaches in there and squeezes it. I know that you bare this pain and still pray that those you love remain happy, oblivious to your suffering. The thing is, your happiness is mine and so I feel the same. I feel the invisible hand reaching around my heart too, it hurts. So here we are, neither of us crying or moving away. I guess this is what nobility is - a love lived for the other, not for reward, but for the eternal connection of kindred souls.
I'm sorry; we can't take you. If a person isn't noble under extreme pressure, they aren't noble at all. We seek those of lion-heart, not ones who would burn the world to save themselves - those who whimper at the slightest personal hurt whilst ignoring the catastrophic wounds of others. Nobility comes out in spite of the self. It is the will to do right by others at personal cost. It took some time to be sure of your spirit and to give you every opportunity to turn around. I regret to say that you failed each opportunity and we can't take you. You get to live out your life here on this planet, but no more. For you, death is the end.
Keep track of your favorite writers on Descriptionari
We won't spam your account. Set your permissions during sign up or at any time afterward.