Tears born into joy, the fight is done. Or so we thought. Then came the bad report, the final struggle, and then - the end. Another come and gone. "They happen in threes," I'm told, but a fourth may be facing the same destiny. Starting a new trio. Where are we in this? I know this pride. I remember well. Walking in hopelessness, a great burdening loss. Around me, laughter floods the street. No mourning there. More bitter I become. They do not know what this world is missing. They have not seen the life we lost. The pride of sorrow, the yearning to show others that they too may mourn. They do not, and why should they? We must carry the loss alone, in silence. I have my mask when needed to cover my sad eyes. A smile may be forced convincingly in place. Perhaps if I complete this charade internally as I have externally, I can continue my life in bliss. It is a good life. But how can I forget them? No, I must not. There is a balance I must find, between fake joy and extreme sorrow. A point exists where one is allowed to feel all emotions healthfully, in moderation, and without apathy. This place is where I must live. Where I will live. And this blog will serve to remind me, and to restore my vision for truth and balance.
We will overcome.
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