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I am sad that the pain can only be saved through pain. Is happiness such an insufficient eraser that the only way to make a mistake go away is to mark it darker until the problem explodes into oblivion? I suppose that's the way the world has always gone about to get what it wants. We started small: sin with an apple, then grew on to wage wars, create atomic bombs and the destruction of races, all by a simple knock of dominoes though to be human intelligence. All endings have come about in the same manner. With more pain. Humans labour their revenge until death; generations pay deep beyond their lifetime. Although I could turn my other cheek, my words can cut you and I will say them until you bleed. My pain becomes yours until we bury each other.
