Backwards

Have you ever had to do something that you really didn’t want to do?  Something stupid, like doing the dishes, or writing a paper, or putting away all the laundry you just did?  Then you know how you make it into such a big deal in your head, blow it way out of proportion.  By the time you’ve finished, you’d rather walk barefoot across a bed of hot coals than do whatever it is that you don’t want to do.  (We’ve all been there, don’t deny it.)

But—no matter how long you put it off—you still have to do it sometime.  So, when you can’t find a single fork, or your paper is due the next morning, or you can’t get to your bed because all the laundry is in the way, you finally give in.  You do it.  It sucks.  And then it’s over.

You look back, and you realize that it really wasn’t all that bad to begin with.  Then you feel ridiculous for making such a big deal about it.  You resolve that this is a secret you will take to your grave.  You have learned your lesson; you will never be so silly about something ever again.

A day passes, or a week, maybe even a little more.  The dishes are dirty again, you have another paper, you can’t find a single pair of socks to wear.  Guess what you do all over again?

Us people, are silly, backwards creatures, aren’t we? 

(‘Of course not, I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I would never do something so ridiculous.’

‘Friend, don’t even lie.’)

—The Shadow Knight

A Change In Perspective

            Have you ever re-read a book that you read once or twice years ago?  If you have, then you know how peculiar it is because you have a completely different perspective.  Things that before caught you off guard—even though you completely forgot how the story went—become easily predictable.  The most inspiring phrase you ever heard becomes cliché.  The character you thought so brilliant now seems immature and shallow.

            You realize this, and then you wonder what else has changed.  You wonder if you would even recognize the old you, if you bumped into him on the street.  You wonder what that you would have thought about who you are now; if you would’ve been surprised, proud, skeptical, or maybe just plain revolted.

            You realize how little you remember your old self, and it catches you completely off guard.  Then you wonder if the bits you remember are like the book, if you would see them differently now.  It’s strange and disorienting, especially when you realize that the bits you remember best are the things you’re most ashamed of.  You start to wonder if that’s all there ever was.

            Then you realize that someday that’s how you shall remember who you are now.  It blows your mind.  It’s sad.  But, that’s also what assures you that there was more to you than you remember.  It stands to reason, being as you know you shan’t remember everything about who you are now.  It—like so much in life—is bittersweet.  You wish you could remember, and you’re glad you can’t.  It’s complicated.

            That’s why so many people keep diaries, journals, blogs.  There are other reasons of course, but this is one of the primary ones.  You don’t want to forget.  You know you are who you are because of what you have gone through.  You don’t want to forget how you got here.  You want to remember the small joys, the things that made you so happy.  You want to remember why you felt so sad.  You want to remember the journey, because how else can you ever know who you are?

            Sometimes, you look back so much that you forget to look forward.  You become trapped in old pains, in weaknesses you think you cannot overcome.  Then something happens, and you realize you have to let go.  You have to remember, but you also have to keep moving.  If you don’t, you’ll look back someday and wish you hadn’t let life pass you by.

            The same thing can happen for the opposite reason.  You can forget to look around, because you’re so focused on what lies ahead.  You’re excited, or you’re planning.  All you can think about is then, and you forget about now.  Or you can forget about the future, forget to plan and forget to dream.  Then you realize you don’t know what you’re doing.  You don’t know where you want to go, so can you ever find your way?

            The trouble is keeping all three in balance.  You know what you need to do, to live in the present, be guided by the past, and aim towards the future, but that—like so much else—is so much easier said than done.  I suppose, if it weren’t, life would be like that book.  You might gain a different perspective, but you would never be able to change its course.  I don’t know about you, but I'm glad it’s not like that.

            —The Shadow Knight

Find Your Strength

            Sometimes, it feels like life is passing us by, like we blink and we’ve missed it.  Other times it seems like we’re stuck, and no matter what we do we can’t get out of a situation.  Sometimes, we get so used to patterns that they become cages.  Sometimes we let our minds turn things that we’re not good at into things we can’t do.  I know I do that last one a lot.

            Each of us are good at some things and bad at others.  That’s a given.  The problem is when we start believing that because we’re not good at something, or it isn’t easy, we shouldn’t try.  I realized this once again this past week.  I'm good with words, that’s my strength.  Writing comes naturally to me, it’s easy and it’s simple, and it’s what I'm good at.

            I'm not so good at sports, I never have been.  I used to get frustrated when I'd watch someone pick up a ball/puck/bat/etc. for the first time, and instantly be good at it, while I had to work at it long and hard, and I still usually wouldn’t be as good.  So, I went in other directions, did things I was better at; and I was ok with that.

            Last week, some of my friends were playing volleyball, and I felt the odd compulsion to join them.  So, I did, and I was bad at it.  But, as the week progressed, and I played more, I started getting better, I'm still awful, and that’s ok.  But, that’s not the point.  This week, I learned to do a backflip.  It was really difficult, and every time I hit the water wrong, it hurt.  But, when I finally got it right, I found that it was all worth it.  I had done something that I never would have thought possible, and it was amazing.

            I'm trying not to limit myself anymore, because—doing that—I've missed out on so much.  I look back, and I wonder what I was thinking.  But, that doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that we can do the things that challenge us, and the things we’re not good at, because they make us stronger.  We talk about wanting to be free.  We get angry when people or governments try to take away our freedom, but strongest prisons are the ones we build ourselves.

            There was this movie I watched a couple times as a kid, the main line was “Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game.”  This week, I remembered that.  I challenge you to do the same.  Find something you’re not good at, something you tell yourself you can’t do, and go do it.  It’s ok if you mess up, if you get frustrated, if it takes you longer than everyone else.  You don’t have to be perfect, you don’t have to be the best, you just have to do it.  I promise you, the pride and confidence you get from overcoming your fear of failure is more than worth the cost.

            –The Shadow Knight

The End is the Beginning...But it Hurts Nonetheless

            When something good is over, it sometimes is unspeakably sad.  Usually, it needs to be finished, it’s time to move on.  But, that doesn’t change the fact that part of you came from it, and that—at least in part—it will be missed.  Some things are missed only shortly, and after a few days you find yourself completely over it.  But there are other things, and these things leave an ache behind.  You want them to come back, to last a little longer.  You know you won’t be back, and it hurts.

            The worst part is when there are people you care about, people you love.  You know that the odds are heavily against you ever seeing them again.  Maybe some of them, you’ll remain close to; you’ll do things together, and stay in touch.  But most—while they have touched you deeply in one way or another—you will never see again.

            Even in this day and age, with the internet connecting everyone, it just isn’t the same.  People who you have the strongest friendship with, you grow apart from.  You still love them.  They’re still your friends.  But, you just don’t talk to them much, if at all.  That’s just the way it is.

            When you’ve been truly happy someplace, and learned a lot from it, those places are the hardest to leave.  You don’t want to let go—of that place or those people—because you know that you belong, and you know sometimes that it shouldn’t be over, not yet.  Those times are the hardest.  Goodbye is the hardest word, either to say or to hear.

            The uncertainty is almost as hard as the ending.  You know that something new will come, but you don’t know what.  You never know what it will be like, if it will even begin to fill the emptiness that the old thing left behind.  You worry, and you’re a little scared.  We’re always scared of what we don’t know.

            The other uncertainty is the one about your friends.  You know you want to stay in touch, to keep your friendship alive.  With some, you know that won’t happen.  It’s sad, but it’s ok; those people were amazing and you love them, but they’re only a little of who you are, and memory is enough.  But then there are the people who are so much a part of you that you don’t know who you would be without them, and you don’t want to find out.  Those are the people who know your secrets, your fears, your strengths, maybe not all of them, but enough.

            You love them.  Plain and simple.  Those people are the ones who might as well be family.  The people you’d do anything to protect.  You’re terrified of losing them, because you know how often that happens, how easy it is.  Sometimes, that fear is enough to keep it from happening…and sometimes not.  Either way, it hurts.  But, that’s the cost of love; and it’s worth it.  Always.

            I heard a great quote the other day; I can’t remember it exactly, but it was something like this,

“Family is not those with whom you share your blood, but rather those for whom you would shed your blood.”  I believe it was from a Hannibal Lecter film, but I’m not sure.  Whatever the source, the point remains.  There are many I would call my family, many for whom I would gladly shed my blood.  I don’t want to lose them.  I’m afraid I might, at least a few of them.

–The Shadow Knight

The Beauty of It

            Have you ever had that feeling where you want to write something: a poem, story, anything really?  Have you ever had it when you can’t think of anything whatsoever to write?

            If you have, you’ll recall how it feels to stare at a blank sheet of paper, waiting.  When you’re full of motivation, if you could only find something to write about.  How seconds turn to minutes as you sit there.  How the minutes drag by, far slower than you ever thought possible.  How frustrated you get when nothing comes to you.

            The things that usually inspire you are utterly useless.  The spark of an idea refuses to light.  Sometimes, you even wonder why you ever thought you could write to begin with.  Or worse, you wonder if you ever will again.

            The thing is—whether or not it happens that day, or even that week or month—you will write again, because that’s what you do, what you are.  You’re a writer.  Something deep inside of you yearns to put to words the thrill of adventure, the elation of love, the pain of the most profound sorrow.  Like breathing, it’s in your nature.

            And that’s the beauty of it.

            -The Shadow Knight

The Great Secret

I have to stay.

I cannot go.

My mind says yes.

My heart says no.

I’m needed here.

I need to leave.

The siren calls.

Roads sing my name.

My blood runs hot.

I scream with pain.

A single tear runs down my cheek.

A heartbeat pulse throbs its beat.

In my heart I feel a yearning.

Open roads and ever turning.

My world keeps spinning out of control.

It’s as if I’m falling a rabbit-hole.

It’s falling, and darkness, and sickness, and cold.

It’s fear, and it’s shame, and it’s ever alone.

At last, I can leave.

I’ve opened the door.

Soft rain is shining.

Light patters on floor.

That moment is perfect.

I hear the sweet song.

I have been waiting for so very long.

I’m one step away from all that I’ve dreamed of.

One breath away from heaven’s gate.

In one bright moment all is made clear.

The road’s just a road, and my home is here.

Laughing my eyes and smiling my step.

I turn my back on what I’d thought best.

There is a great secret.

I now know its answer.

Home is where the heart is.

Heart is where you put it.

      -The Shadow Knight

Shattered Patterns

What if I want to die?

What if life holds no appeal?

What if I dance to the siren song of death?

What if I hunger for the stillness?

What if I thirst for silence?

At least then I know my place.

At least then I know my end.

At least then they understand.

I’m just another nameless face.

I’m just another empty death.

I’m just another teenage tragedy.

I’m just another foolish child

With just another grieving family.

Folks will say they’re sorry.

Folks will say that it’s so sad.

Folks will try to care,

But, folks won’t.

It’s a simple pattern.

It’s a story often told.

It’s so sad.

It’s the way of the world.

But,

What if I want to live?

     -The Shadow Knight

Waiting On the World to Change (sort of)

            Have you ever had that feeling where you know you have to do something, but you really, really, really don’t want to?  I get that a lot.  The thing is, I’m a pre-worrier (or would it be ante-worrier?).  Anyway, the point is I worry about things before they happen, and then when they actually do come into fruition, I realize it’s not a big deal.  I guess I would rather have it this way than the other way around.

            But, it really sucks sometimes.  If something big is gonna happen—the kind of thing that has tons of planning going into it—then I have all sorts of time to figure out every single little thing that could possibly go wrong, or every reason I really shouldn’t do whatever it is, or whatever.

            Sometimes, I even talk myself out of (fill in the blank), and I miss out on a lot because of it.  Anyway, it’s really stupid, and I hate doing it, but I can’t really seem to stop.  On the upside, when something does go wrong, it doesn’t throw me.  Plus, since I’ve done all my worrying beforehand I can (usually, sometimes, -ish) relax once things are actually set in motion, so I guess it isn’t all bad.

            Anyway, my mum’s getting married.  Yeah, weird.  It’s cool though, the guy’s pretty dang awesome, and he makes her really happy.  I like him loads, so it’s all good.  I really am happy for them, not just saying it ‘cause I’m s’posed to or whatever, I honestly think it’s great.  Only, now I’m starting to get that nervous feeling that I always do, that sort of manic tension.  It’s a little different; I’m not playing out scenarios in my head.  But still, it’s annoying.

            I just wanna be happy for them, and help out with the wedding type stuff.  I know it’s gonna be awesome once it actually happens, but now I’ve got that weird pit-of-my-stomach feeling.  The one that happens right before something changes, even when the change is good, because you don’t what you’re changing from, but not so much what you’re changing to.

            I’ve got that feeling for a lot of things though, the school year’s almost over and next year I’ll be going to a different school, and all sorts of stuff.  So I’ve got that feeling sort of amassed from all the different changes, and it’s become pretty much a constant.  It’s pretty weird.  Anyway, I’m looking forward to all this stuff finally happening so I can stop stressing.  But, I’ll also miss the way things are now.

            It’s one of those things where change is good, but you still miss the way things were, even though it was good to move on.  You know?

           

            -The Shadow Knight

Secrets Told

Nothing was left

Secrets laid bare

Empty words mumur

No reason to care

Hidden thoughts laid out

For all the world to see

Turn and swiftly run away

What will they think of me

Silent words

Now screamed aloud

Run and hide

And don’t be found

Now they know

Don’t let them see

Darkness cover

Please to hide

What’s become of me

            -The Shadow Knight

Love

            Love is when someone is hurting, and you want to take their place.  When you love someone, you want them to be happy.  Love is when something you say makes them smile, and that smile makes your day.  Love is when someone matters to you.  Love is when someone is sad, and you are too, even though you don’t even know what happened.  Love is when you say hello to the person no one likes.  Love is when someone sees that you are sad, and they crack a cheesy joke, just to make you smile.  Love is hugging your sister.  Love is listening instead of talking.  Love is telling the truth.  Love is being yourself, and trusting them to see you as you are.

    -The Shadow Knight

Ruins

Wandering aimlessly

Empty halls

All is silent

One tear falls

Dirt and cobwebs

Cover the floor

Alone and forgotten

Hope is no more

One lost soul

Still stands alone

In the ruins

Of his once home

Day after day

Year after year

His only words

In one silent tear

-The Shadow Knight

Shadowlight

The dark shines brighter than summer’s day.

Light bends in the shadows.

Eyes pierce deepest cloud,

But muddle through clear skies.

Murkiest ponds are seen with a glance.

Crystal streams remain unknown.

Thickest smoke-clouds studied and shown,

While fire-light forgotted to embers falls.

The dusty traveler wanders alone.

Mighty kings forget their homes.

       -The Shadow Knight

Nevermore

Ashes to ground.

Smoke to air.

Fire fades and dies.

Heat is no more.

Cold seeps in.

Darkness falls.

Shadows roar.

Empty and silent.

Smoke flies away.

Torn apart.

Torn away.

Burning nevermore.

Glowing embers fade to ash.

Ashes scattered in the dirt.

Flames not remembered.

Evidence gone.

Burning, burning nevermore.

Ashes to ground.

New life begins.

Born from ashes,

Of those who came before.

Changing.

Shifting.

Form to form.

Fires burning evermore.

-The Shadow Knight

Inspirations of Daedalus

I’ve been writing a story for my Creative Writing class.  We found words written on signs or other places all over the school.  When we put them all together, we ended up with a list of 240 words.  The assignment was to write a story using 100 of those words.  We also have to use correct story format (exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution), but beyond that we can write whatever we want, even the length is up  to us as long as we use the 100 words.

My partner and I decided on a story sometime in the future where there are cameras everywhere, you never know when someone’s watching you, and if you get caught there is no sentencing.  It doesn’t matter if you killed someone or stole a box of crackers (which one of the characters did), you get dropped in the middle of this giant maze.  If you can find the way out, then you’ll be free, but no one’s ever done that.

If you stay near the center of the maze—Daedalus—then you’re relatively safe.  There’s food, it’s in good shape, and the monsters don’t usually go there.  But, the further away from the middle you go, the more deadly it becomes.  There are various Challenges, monsters, puzzles, all sorts of things.  The monsters, of course, will kill you if they can, but the other things won’t harm you, but you can only pass if you get them right.

Also, there are different biomes (yeppers, totally just used a minecraft term there) the center is stone.  It’s clean and there’s sunlight, it doesn’t rain much, but there are some pools to drink from.  Other places could be anything.  One is frozen solid.  The floors and walls are made of ice, and it’s constantly in mid-blizzard.  One is all mirrors.  In one of them, gravity changes.

Anyway when the two characters (Cracker and Dillinger) find what they find (I can’t say what ‘cause that’d blow the ending) what they realize is that what they thought they wanted isn’t really worth it.  They’d been searching for what everyone thought was the best, but they figured out that to get it, they’d haveta give up what they already had, and to them, it wasn’t worth the tradeoff.

Writing this has really made me think about what I want.  Is it really me that wants it?  Or is it just the fact that society has told me all my life how good it is?  Have you ever asked yourself that?  If you really think about it, it can blow your mind.  Or at least it did mine.

-The Shadow Knight

Courage

         Courage.  There is so much, and so little courage.  We see it every day.  We choose to act with or without it, to acknowledge or deny the need for it, to see or turn away from those who have it.

         There are so many kinds of courage.  Courage is saying what you think, even though you might be laughed at.  Courage is leaving your home, your family, everything that matters to you so that you can defend it.  Courage is befriending the unpopular kid.  Courage is helping the old lady cross the street, even if it isn’t ‘cool.’  Courage is having respect for someone you don’t like.  Courage is seeing both sides of an argument.  Courage is allowing yourself to see that you were wrong.  Courage is saying sorry.  Courage is speaking up.  Courage is staying silent.  Courage is being willing to listen.  Courage is trusting someone.  Courage is love.  Courage is caring for someone, and allowing them to care for you.

         

         There are so many kinds of courage.  We see them every day…or do we choose not to?

Wasting Time

         Has it ever occurred to you how beautiful the world is?  When was the last time you stopped and just looked at something, a tree, a flower, a cloud, the sunset, the way that smoke curls in wisps, how sunlight reflects off of water?  Do we even notice these things anymore, or are we too wrapped up in our own little worlds?

         

         It seems that we never have enough time.  We have too little time to do what we have to do, and certainly none to spare.  We don’t have a day to take a vacation.  We don’t have an hour to spend with friends or family.  We don’t have five minutes to chat.  We absolutely cannot spend a few moments—less than a minute—to look at something lovely.

         

         I just don’t have time.  How often do we use that excuse?  How many times in a day do we say that, to ourselves and everyone around us?  How much time do we waste explaining why we don’t have any?  And why do we try, day in and day out, to convince ourselves that there simply is no time, no time to live, no time to love, no time to care, no time to try, no time to matter, because time is all that matters, and we simply don’t have it?

         

         If instead of wasting time by bemoaning the lack thereof, how much would we have to spend, or better yet invest in the things that truly matter?

Beautiful Truths

I Died for Beauty, Emily Dickinson,

“I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth - the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a-night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.”

           

We are told not to question the way of things.  ‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ and ‘ignorance is bliss,’ are common anecdotes. Yet, as Emily Dickinson  wrote, of truth and often, the truth—once learned—is wished to be forgotten again.  The more unpleasant truths we learn, the more we long for the return of childhood oblivion, where sorrow meant the end of a cookie, and the only struggle was to obtain another; or at least that is how we—in our current state—idealize it.

It seems that whatever state we are in—rich, poor, young, old, employed, jobless, etc.—is the worst possible state, and that our lives would be perfect if just that one thing—whatever it may be—were different.  Once we get that thing—the one that will bring life to perfection—we find it absolutely thrilling…for all of five minutes.  Then the cycle begins again.

It seems that we will always choose to believe that if our luck would only change, all would be right with the world; rather than take responsibility for our lives in full.  We would rather delude ourselves into thinking that our happiness would be complete if only (fill in the blank) than see the truth that everything has both pros and cons in equal measure, and the only question is which ones.  It’s quite understandable, if we were to acknowledge that, then we would be forced to stop denying the attainability of perfection, and that would be a hard thing indeed.  As Carl Schurz said, “Ideals are like the stars: we never reach them, but like the mariners of the sea, we chart our course by them.”

It is a hard thing to know that we will never reach the stars, and yet truth is beauty, and aren’t ideals beautiful?

Roses

Roses are some of the most symbolic things on this planet.  As we all know, they're thought of as a sign of love, but there's so much more to it than that.  Before roses bloom, they are one of the ugliest plants imaginable, dark, thorny, and utterly depressing.  Then they blossom, and suddenly they're beautiful.  Red, pink, yellow, or even black, they are perhaps even more beautiful because one had to wait.  Like so many things born from pain, they are all the more desirable for it.

Roses grow on bushes or vines.  They are never alone.  Like people, they take their strength from one another, from closeness.  If you cut a rose from the others, it will die.  Even if you put it in water and sunlight, even if you give it lots of plant food, it begins to die the very moment it is pulled from its home.

They are all different colors.  Some are pink, and they always seem innocent.  Some are white and pure.  Some are yellow, and aren't they the happiest thing you ever did see?  Some, like the one below, are brightest red, all flashy and eye-catching.  Some are black, tragically beautiful.  And some, perhaps the most famous, are dark red, like blood.  They seem to have a depth to them, a meaning beyond what can be seen.  They are beautiful and yet flawed, but the flaws themselves add to the beauty.

It is these, these fragile, painful, dangerous, tough, wild, flawed, beautiful, delicate things that we use to symbolize love.  It seems to me that they are really a symbol for humanity, and maybe even for life itself.

                                                                           
 The link above will take you to the site where I found this picture.  imgres

An Author's Frustrations

So, here’s the thing: I love fiction.  I like books, and movies, TV shows, and even musicals.  I like fantasy, adventure, sci-fi, mystery, and most anything you can think of.  I even like poetry.  I like funny, dramatic, cheesy (to an extent), tragic, meaningful, and most anything else.  Well, I’m not big on horror, but that’s about the only one I don’t care for.  I like deep type war movies, and shallow-yet-awesome shoot-‘em-up movies (the key with those—as with superhero movies—is that they’ve gotta have good fight scenes).  I like Shakespearian comedies (I haven’t watched many tragedies yet, I’m waiting for the ‘opportune moment’) and I like kids’ movies (if they’re well done, I mean Tangled, great movie).  And, I watch everything from The Vampire Diaries to Doctor Who.  As far as poetry goes, I prefer things that make me think, but that’s most anything.  Robert Frost’s The Road Not Taken is amazing, so are The Charge of the Light Brigade, by Lord Tennyson and I Died for Beauty, by Emily Dickinson.  I also especially love I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, by Maya Angelou and War is Kind by Stephen Crane.

Here’s where it gets interesting, I also like to write.  I get some good ideas, scenes or plots, maybe even a character or a place.  But, I can never seem to get it all together.  Maybe I’ve got the plot all worked out, down to the smallest detail, but I can’t make the writing sound good.  Or maybe, I can write just fine, but my story’s going nowhere.  Or say I’ve got both, the writing’s going great, I know the plot, but my characters just seem wrong, or fake, or shallow.  Even when there’s nothing wrong and I’ve got it all together, I just lose my drive; I can’t seem to focus, or anything I write sounds like drivel, or no matter what I do, my mind goes blank.

Sure, I can write short stories, or poems, but I can’t seem to make much headway on anything longer.  That is, I have one book finished, that a friend and I are writing together, but writing by myself, it never works out.

Characters.  It’s really hard with characters.  I’m sure I’m not the only one, but the only characters I can write are, in some way, based off myself.  That’s all well and good, except for I always seem to have the same protagonist, I mean, there’s some differences, but the basic nature doesn’t change.  The real problem with this is that, while specifics change, I always end up with the same basic scenarios.  That’s part of the reason I get so easily bored or distracted with my work.  ‘Cause, when you get down to it, it’s really the same thing every time.  It’s kind of like when you play with picture effects on Photoshop; you change the filter, or the color scheme, or whatever, but—when you get down to it—it’s still the same picture underneath.

A Code of Honor

            Sometimes, I think I was born into the wrong time.  I live by a code of honor that this world, or at least as much as I know of it, abandoned long ago.  I say I live by it, perhaps what I ought to say is that I believe in it; because, as we all know, what we believe is often a far cry from what we practice.  I certainly am no different in that respect.  I make as many mistakes as anyone else.  I deliberately make the wrong choice just as often as anyone you’ll ever meet.  I suppose the difference, then, is not in the balance of wrong as opposed to right, but rather in the definition of the two, and the boundaries between them.

            I believe in living honestly, but I do not necessarily believe that lying is always wrong.  I believe in keeping one’s word; because if you don’t have that, then what do you have?  Relationships are based on trust, to a varying extent.  This is readily apparent with friendship and romance, however, it is equally true with business partnerships, bank accounts, employment, even simply getting in one’s car and driving.

            Having a job is an employer trusting an employee to do a job.  The employee, in turn, trusts his employer to pay him for doing his job.  When one puts money in the bank, one trusts that it will still be there when one returns.  Every time one drives anywhere, one trusts that the other drivers will obey the laws of the road.

            I believe in loyalty.  I believe that friendship ought to mean more than a passing liking for someone.  I believe that ‘friend’ is not merely an empty word, a designation for someone with whom one passes the time.  It is a bond shared between two people, and once made, it is not easily broken.  Friendship is a promise, a promise to love, a promise to care for, a promise that a space, however large or however small, in your heart will always belong to them.  It is a promise to help.  However cliché, it is a promise to be a shoulder to lean on.  Of course, as with anything, there are degrees of friendship, but the basic principle remains the same.

            I believe in courage.  I believe that one ought to do what is right even, and perhaps especially, when they are frightened of the consequences.  I believe that courage is doing what’s right, even when you know you’ll get knocked down.  I do not think that courage is the absence of fear, quite the opposite, in fact.  Courage is when you’re as scared as it gets, and you chose—despite the fact that it is unbearably hard—to face your fear and do what you must, despite it.

            You can call me crazy, old-fashioned, deluded, naïve.  It may be that you would be right.  Frankly, I simply do not care.  I am as I am, and that is how I intend to stay.

—The Shadow Knight