I'm happy for you, I didn't think I would say that nor did I think that I even could say it. But as much as I thought it would hurt I feel glad that you'll be alright.

I'm glad I made a differenced for someone.

And I'm glad that you still think I'm wonderful, because if you think it then it must be true.

I'm forever grateful for the things you showed me, the things you made me feel. Hopefully someday I'll learn to feel them again, preferably sooner then later.

I love you, however that may be, I love you and you love me.

I don't regret anything, now or ever, because of you.

Goodbye.

Weed or me?

You cannot kill a hole; that would be impossible.
You cannot stab it, burn it, or break it. Everything you do only serves to tear it wider.

The longer to fight it the larger it grows. Worse and worse by the day as your mind relentlessly picks at the gaping walls of its expanding exterior.

You cannot kill a hole; you can only fill it.
But futile are your attempts to cram in any and everything that might fit, only to watch it all poor out of its misshapen home.

The only thing that can fill a hole is that piece that once removed. But on day you may find even that may no longer fit amongst the scar tissue and distorted edges. The hole has grown too large and deformed to ever house that which was once part of it.

You cannot fill a hole.

It is simply a part of you.

Forever.

I don't expect you to believe, I myself don't even know what I saw.

But I know what who I believe it was. I know it sounds stupid, and I know it's hard to accept, but I know what I felt in those few endless moments.

There is a reason these things happen, there where a hundred different places I could have been, but I was there.

He was smiling, he was happy, in him I saw you.

I'm not sure how you'll take this, I don't want it to hurt, I don't want to bring up old scars, but maybe that's the point. Maybe that's what he wanted. For you to know he's happy, for you to let it go.

He forgives you, we forgive you, it's time that you forgave yourself.

All I know is what I saw. He was smiling. He was happy.


That is all.

There is no happy ending for good men.

Good men, truly good men, are alone. They are hated. They are outcast. They are martyred.

Because good men make the choices that no one else can. Good men suffer for our sins. Good men do not share their pain, but they absorb all of ours.

There is no recognition for good men. No thanks. No reward.

Because good men are invisible. Their actions are unseen, but their effect will never go unnoticed. The world around us is made only bearable because of the actions of a few good men.

Good men give every part of themselves for the sake of that which is bigger then themselves. Be it the whole world, or one small soul.

Dark men are victorious in anthem. Dark men are proud. Their actions are heard on high. They voices echo for all to hear. Everyone can see the choices of dark men.

But good men are silent. Their actions are unsung. They hide their victories, they suffer for them.

Good men are hated. Good men are outcast. Good men are martyred. Good men are alone.

There is no happy ending for good men; for they gave it up for our own.