I left my candle near the other thousands guarding desperate souls.

“May my own be released.”

I turn my back to the prayers and walk towards the fall that’s always in front of me, while they fade away. Should I jump? A new life expects me down there. Should I leave all behind and never care again?
I step backwards throwing a desperate look at the abysm. I’m not capable of leaving my past. I’m weak. I’ll just stay with it forever, cold and impassive, just for the sake of being there. I’m too cold and too selfish to cry. On the other hand, what cry for? For that the others see I’m human? I don’t believe myself that I’m human. My soul is crumbled enough. Why should my face look the same? I’m the only one who knows that I repent. They only accuse without even watching inside themselves. They just don’t see my fears and my unbearable pain… so that I became apathetic and indifferent at their thoughts and taunts.
I hate you for loving me and I couldn’t stand myself for not trying hard to love you back. Perfection itself, which wears your name, has such flaws to me, that I am not able to believe myself being so willing to achieve perfect perfection. Does it exist? My answer for question number one billion is that perfection exists for those who don’t look for it.
The mistake that my destiny made me endure was sending me to achieve the absolute, meanwhile allowing me fail the process at every flash that should tell me such a research is impossible to complete, whoever I may be.
I want you to teach me life, teach me myself, teach me who I am, only then will I be able to love you the way you deserve.

Heal my soul, teach me good and I shall let you enjoy it.