Once, a long time ago.

I've tasted it. The bland taste of fear. I've smelt it. The smell of burnt hope. I've felt the despair, and I've watched as it twisted my soul, until I felt indifferent, until I felt numb. I've known, so keenly, what it was like to feel that trapped, that hopeless. And now, when I talk to her, I remember that, and I shut my eyes. I'm horrified by how unnecessary it all seems. I feel thankful for all that hope did to me, for me. I want to reach out and I try. But I can't. I know you've to work out your own way. And there isn't any one way out. There's only one thing: you've to learn to believe, to love, to hope, to care and to let go. It's not that hard and it's not that easy.