When children are born into this world, the first thing they ever do is cry. I wouldn’t be surprised if my cry had been the loudest yet. I was born alone—I have not a friend in the whole world. I kept telling myself the situation would get better, but it never did. I found myself in a dark abyss, but I never told myself to get used to it because that would have been the same as losing hope.
Sure, I was scared. Sure, I was lonely. But knowing that I’d find salvation one day fueled the flame of hope in my heart. I didn’t want to give into the darkness, so I told myself not to cry and put on a smile. Even in the toughest of times, I would laugh and shrug everything off, but somewhere hidden deep in my mind, I knew it might have been hopeless—that love and justice were just tedious lies.
And yet, I woke up every morning ready to face a new day, and I went to sleep every night, knowing that tomorrow would bring a new day. I found it strange that I could live on like this, even though I had grown tired of life. Perhaps it was because of my stubbornness that I escaped from the clutches of death for far more times than the average man. I refused to give in, and I don’t regret it.
I don’t regret it because I found confidence in myself that I never thought I had, because I could believe in myself, because I could be proud of who I was, because I refused to give up, and because my wretched life led me to you…