Part IV: A Thing about Comparative Depression

Once upon a time there was a boy called X. The boy called X met another boy called x. Do not get confused, they were different from each other. The boy called X was older than the other called x, but he was not that much older. Older enough. X was a dreamer, and his dreams often consisted of him burning everything to the ground. x was also a dreamer, and his dreams often consisted of him burning everything to the ground. It was a pre-destined friendship.

X and x often talked together as peers, because they understood a facet of the world that no one else ever understood. They understood the power of detachment, of blatant arrogance, of being better than others, a better-ness awarded from birth. They understood the desire to destroy, they understood the pain that led them there. It was a glorious understanding, far above any other kind. At the time.

X knew x’s pain, x knew X’s pain. It was a badge proudly won.

X grew a little, and he discovered that there should be more than pain, there should be more than the desire to destroy. He envied the normal people, and he made a prayer to be like them. To feel emotion. Other than rage and helplessness.

Prayers get answered.

X‘s shell was washed away, and he discovered a new world, where love was the highest form of a man that could be achieved. Incidentally, the next time he met x, he was different. He had discovered a new world, where love was the highest form of a man that could be achieved. It was a glorious occasion.

X discovered people could be more than useful. They could be beautiful. People did not discover that he could be more than useful, that maybe he could be beautiful.

x discovered people could be more than useful. They could be beautiful. And people discovered that he could be even more beautiful than before.

X fell for another person, and his heart was hers. The other person was thankful, and her heart was hers.

x fell for another person, and his heart was hers. The other person was in love too, and her heart was his.

X fell into despair. And despair held him close. They dreamt up great things, and great atrocities. Bitterness is a pain that requires pain to fuel the pain it greats.

x fell into the net of hope. And hope held him close. They did great things against great atrocities. Gratitude is a joy that requires, and gives, the joy to fuel the joy it brings.

Once upon a time there was a man called X. The man called X met another man called x. Do not get confused, they were different from each other. X was a dreamer, and his dreams often consisted of him burning everything to the ground. x was also a dreamer, and his actions often consisted of doing the thing he loved, to the best of his ability, to live a life well lived.

The End.