The difference

Is there any way to cheat destiny?

To jump over the nasty parts, over your own fear?

I honestly doubt it. There is no grand time machine, and even if there were what good would it do to transport a person, with all his/her emotional baggage to a new setting? Would that person not remain the same, would it not feel the same, just perhaps, a tiny bit different?

I believed it would be... difficult. But difficult is just an empty word. It is a word, and like all other words, it may hold some resemblance to a feeling, a condition, a state of being, but such resemblance is faint.

My arrogance keeps me hoping. It keeps me hoping that I will be able to go on and do some good. But good, like all other words, is an empty word. Where is the good in transporting medical supplies and guns, in the same box? Is there any other way to save lives?

For me, here, there is. There is this moral conjuncture in my head that tells me it must be possible. It is not. Do not forget that. You must choose. You must choose to take the medicine that will save the lives the guns will then end.

Who do I think I am? Who do I believe to be? In my assumption that my work, my words even, my empty and shallow person, will ever alleviate the need of... someone. Courage does not lie in my facing some teacher, some president, some crowd. Courage lies in the eyes of the hungry, the eyes that acknowledge their pain without some sort of medicine. We, I. I should die. It is befitting of me, the fate I sign by taking pills. I will not be able to ease their pain. I know it is a lie to think that I will not make some difference. But when it comes down to it, when it comes down to all those I might of helped and all those I couldn't have helped, I understand why it is called "making a difference".

It's Mathematics. Simple. Logic. Uncaring.

Total - saved = those who need saving.

Those, who you, unknowingly, have failed.