Every soul has his or her limits. There comes a time when the pressure and the pain overwhelms you, when the confusion leaves you so lost that you lose all hope and cease to care. There comes a time when the battle dies down, and the opponent you love so dearly begs on bended knee, yet you can’t stop. The knowledge of right and wrong that you possess does nothing but burden you further, the responsibility of truth presses down on you so hard that you have no choice but to raise the knife and plunge it again and again into the gasping chests of those you adore. They plead in front of you, after giving their life and possibilities for you, but you can’t stop. You feel unworthy of humanity, you feel low and dirty and typical, in a land where heroes lie few and far between, extinguished suddenly and forgotten quickly.

Do I see point in preserving those around me? When I am consumed by my rage and the inequity that surrounds me I can’t, I simply can’t care. I see no worth in what I have to lose, so I bet it all.

And yet, through this thick mist of anguish and alarm my solace beams with brilliance unrivaled. My strength, my rock stands true. What I know is unchanging and dependable, and for this I am grateful.

I think Carter’s right: It takes much more faith to be an atheist than a Christian or a Buddhist or any type of individual that believes in a deity. How can one’s faith lie in the hand of man? How can a race so frail and delusional be trusted? How can you look into your life and know that your meaning lies in only what you see?

My savior, my comfort. I love thee and I will love thee forever. If I trust in thee I cannot fail, and you shall comfort Zion’s wasteplaces.