Soberness in Solitude

Ahead of him was a rocky road. His soles were torn and bloody, worn out from the long walk behind him. He turned back and to remind him of the journey he journeyed. A long, long road.

A long road of experience. A long road of hurt. A long road of blissful innocence. A long road of regrets and aches.

He looked towards the front, knowing that history will indeed repeat itself, knowing that despite all his efforts, he will be crushed again and again.

No one was there to help him; no one capable, no one bearable, no one understandable.

He had to steel and still everything within him. He had to cast the storms aside. He had to toss everything that blew against his face and attempted to crush him away, far from reach. He had to - with his own hands - gather courage and walk to the front. He had to be sober.

"I am afraid to show you who I really am,
because if I show you who I really am,
you might not like it -- and that's all I really got."