Reality wrote me a letter; it says that things have changed, in a way I have not quite expected. They who read it have interpretations that arise from extreme ends. Scarred by their own stories, and the history left behind for them. Herein lies a journey of empathy and quiet acknowledgement of the resonance in a close friend called Pain.
Pain visits me with different offerings, and often under the disguise of peace. The less I expect her to surface, the greater her effect on me when she does. We put up a fight, because I want nothing more to do with her, and I refuse to concede defeat. But her force proves more relentless than the conviction I have built up all these years. Pain tells me she's got good intentions; she will not surrender until I release what I have grasped too dearly to myself. But no one knows the door through which Filth should take her leave.
Filth paints me a picture of who I want to be. She is most deceitful in all her ways; she convinces me that nothing is out of my reach. But as I watch her paint, I begin to notice there is more than meets the eye. It soon falls through the cracks, in a fashion most inconceivable. Utterly horrified in my awakening, she reveals to me the darkest truths about my being that I wish to un-know. I beg for her to tell me we have merely fallen asleep, but she has turned her back. I look for the culprit who's placed her in the depths of my heart. Tracing the evidence brings Pain back, as she points me to myself.
What about Sacrifice? I heard he's good company. If you are willing to lose, he promises you empty hands again to receive. This time, it shall be the rightful portion assigned to you. Has it ever occured to you that the words you uttered have the power to be taken up in the heavens, to bring about a drastic overhaul? Perhaps the best thing you could do next is to send away, and forget about your own existence. You are now done, and will soon be complete.
This is how I make history.
