Everyone leaves. Everyone vanishes. You would suppose by now I would be inured to it somehow; better able to withstand the pain. You would think I would know my place instead of striving for something more, only to be horribly crushed by destiny every single time. But, as is to be expected for someone with my name, I am a fool, driven foolishly to seek the bright light of happiness even when it turns out to be a scalding hot flame of destruction.

Once more, I am burned, and I hurt, and I fall broken to the Earth, to convulse and cry until my wounds heal and, cursed with my fate, I take wing to try again.

But maybe-- I tell myself in consolation-- maybe this time I will learn from my purgatory. Maybe this time I will declare and end to it and stop trying, and simply accept the truth of my barren solitude.

I hope so. I'm tired of pain.

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