Sometimes I want to give up; sometimes I get lost in a cloud of thoughts; sometimes the pressure gets the best of me causing me to falter and crack.
I know nothing in this life is permanent, and the darkness will come as it does for everyone, as it does for everything, and things will come to an end, but everything is a cycle (a portion of eastern religions call it Samsara). And so, there will be things that repeat–there is a rebirth. I cannot tell you how many times I have died in this life time.
But once I truly fade to dust, I just want to know that I was the vessel that carried you out of the cycle of poverty, a cycle that I will live in forever, because if I escape it by circumstance, it will still be stuck in my mind. The things that happened to me. Sometimes those thoughts tear a whole in my mind, like a needle puncturing my eye and scrambling as much as it can.
But, everyday I try to remember, I remember getting stabbed, getting beaten, being abused just so that it will make me stronger, so I can run faster with you in my arms and escape, escape this shit.
P.S. Maybe it is a sign of my naïveté. But you will have your own cycle of suffering, just, hopefully it was not as bad a mine.