Tales of Destruction, part III
Once upon a time, I was walking along the highway. It was a cold and dark night, and not a thing alive could be seen. The nearest town was 4 miles away, but that was not exactly where I was heading. For my road didn't have really a target. I walked numbly, the relization that there was really no solution, just as there was no end to this road. My mind was blank and I was tired, but I relly couldn't feel anything at all, except for eternal sadness. I had lost something, and I didn't know what it was, but I knew there was no way I could find it again, that something for me was lost forever. My life seemed like a blank page to me, empty and thoughtless.
And at this point of the story, there should happen something to change the flow of all things, there should be someone I would meet, and he would tell me that there really is a reason for everything, or something would happen to make me understand and remember what it was I had lost. But it didn't happen. I was as alone as I wanted to be, because even if something like that happened, then deep within, I would have known it was a lie. Just a smokescreen, an illusion.
And tears started flowing down my face, seemingly without a reason, the tears of relief. Something was lost, for something else to be gained, my old temples had been burnt down, for new ones to be built. I had learned to let go something that had never been mine. The pain was sweet, and it taught me how to be strong, how to never cry again. And since that, I never have.