Some time ago,
there was a girl. She was selfless and as brave as she could manage.
She was creative, smart and always applied herself. She spent her
time learning and creating, and saving people, in small ways.
But with time,
she lost hope. The kindness she’d once seen in the world had never
been returned to her and so it faded from her eyes altogether. She
continued to save others in those small ways, but she lost her
purpose. Apathy, loneliness and selfishness crept into her mind. An
infection, she soon became small-minded, unreliable and angry.
Still, she
suffered in ways that she couldn’t describe even today. Her anguish
was constant, buried so deep, ingrained so heavily into her character
that she saw no way out. And no reason to keep moving through the
blowing winds of the squall and the icy chill of the falling snow.
So, she put her pride aside and called out for help.
Slowly… With
the passing of years, the wounds of her heart healed and only cracks
were left. She met someone she could look up to, the way she wanted
others to look up to her. The way she, so long ago had wanted to lead
by example. To save others, to make the world brighter, to fight the
darkness.
But like her,
that person was not perfect. That person fell to an illness of their
own. But she rose to the occasion. She tried harder than she ever had
before. She took on many burdens, and lovingly cared for that person,
even as the flame of hope grew dim in her heart once again and the
chill of the world began to enclose on her, with so little a flame to
guard her.
And at that time,
she was saved once again. Someone took her hand and told her that she
could be that shining gem again. That her journey had just began.
That she was beautiful.
She returned to
saving whomever she could, determined to fight harder than she ever
had. But the cracks in her heart remained. In fact, the loneliness
she’d once felt would slowly become stronger than it had ever been
before. As she spent all her time, scrambling between one person and
another, she fell apart, herself.
Her heart began
to break in two and her hopes for love itself, slowly drowned. She
lost all faith once more, and began to think that it was all
pointless. It was all a cycle. Even that very realization. She had no
idea what her purpose was anymore and in fact, she’d never
recovered it at all. The howling winds of the storm continued every
day and where was the end to it? When would it let up? But she pushed
herself as hard as she could to keep going and as the flame of her
heart flickered, sputtering, losing control, just on the brink of
being snuffed out…
She was once
again saved. A mysterious new face appeared, almost as if just to
greet her. History just repeats itself… She thought. That person
told her that she was beautiful. That she had limitless potential.
That she was strong and not weak. Hadn’t she heard this before, or
something similar? Hadn’t she spoken words like this countless
times to countless people?
But she couldn’t
help but believe. Her cynicism, her doubt, her pain… All of it was
overshadowed by the flame of her heart, which burned so brightly, so
strongly that she could pull the two halves of her heart together.
She took that person’s hand and began to have faith once again. In
herself. Her heart slowly healed, even as it suffered more and more
wounds. Even more hardship.
Why do I want to
help others? She couldn’t get the question out of her mind. She
couldn’t understand her purpose, still. As she reviewed her life,
she began to come to realize something.
She began to
realize that she was only still marching on through the snow, through
the sleet and hail and blizzard, the freezing cold of the world,
where there is no shelter, no warmth afforded by mere cloth and no
end in sight… Because she had been saved. Because hands had been
offered to her. Because she had heard the things she had said to
others so many times, herself.
Suddenly,
everything made sense. This was why she had always wanted to burn
brightly. This was why she had never quite managed to fall in the
snow and freeze in the cold. Why she’d never given up. She’d had
so many heroes, who’d found her there, who’d taken her hand and
lead her through that powerful, relentless storm.
Even through her
mistakes, through the affections she’d squandered, the hearts she’d
accidentally broken and was never careful enough with, people still
insisted on helping her up. People still insisted on giving her hope.
On being her heroes. Those she wanted to be like, those who inspired
her, those who made her keep moving those feet of her, no matter how
numb.
This girl knew
now, pain that she could never truly share with anyone else.
Harrowing anguish which made that she’d used to know into the
tiniest shadow cast by the flames of her heart. Her love had grown so
exponentially, and yet with it had the pain, with it had the
exhaustion, the frustration, the temptation to throw everything away,
to hate and rage and quit.
She finally
understood. This was what she was. Tragic. Her pain would never end.
That was destined. That was a fate that no one could change, no
matter their willpower. But so long as she could spread the very
love, the very kindness and understanding she’d been given so many
times, she could make that great, big blizzard just the tiniest bit
easier to weather.
And that tiny
contribution, even that tiny positive influence… Would be worth
endless suffering. Worth pain that would never end, that could never
be quantified, and hope that would be betrayed an endless amount of
times.
She’d been
right all along. It was a cycle. That too, couldn’t be changed.
She, like all others, would lose hope, would lose heart, would start
to fall. It was inevitable. But by extending her hand, she could
insure that one more person was saved, that one more person would
extend that hand to others like her.
That girl had
always wanted to be a hero. But she’d never understood what a hero
truly was. The pain that it came with, the loneliness or the
exhaustion that would make someone so youthful, feel so absolutely
decrepit.
But still today,
that girl and her blue heart trudge through the banks of snow that
have fallen since time immemorial. Still today she fights, and harder
than ever before. And she hurts more than ever too. What is a hero?
A hero is tragic.
But a hero is beautiful. A hero pushes through their own agony, to
heal the torment of another.
And that is what
she’d always wanted to be. A hero.
I
owe this text to many people.
I
owe my life to many people.
Want
to feel my forever blue heart? Just listen to its rhythm.
Nier
Gestalt, Kaine/Salvation. Enjoy.
