I stare into the blank void of pondering morality. My vision focuses on intangible deeds and conflicts made real by my fear. I see this world so full of hate and violence, and the innocent boy burried inside my desensitized shell shivers and retreats further. I watch myself fade as the image of that boy becomes smaller and blurier inside my mind. And I hate myself for losing touch with him, my soul, my innocence. I revert to destruction, destroying others and myself. Doing everything to punish and nothing to heal.

There are a lot of things in my life that I've done to make that boy shrink away from me. Far too many morals compromised, way too much pain endured. And now that boy may be just a shadow, but in it's place, I have a man that is casting that shadow. And he is a man I would very much like to be. A man that the boy inside of me would look upon with admiration. I've a way to go to become this noble persona, but it involves me burrying the boy. It's hard to set your innocence in a coffin. Even if it's for a cause that you'd be willing to die for. Afterall, they are so close as to be confused as one and the same far too often.

My judgement has lead me to the arms of danger. My eyes see the source of the risk, and I must look away with disgust. The way this world is run I find repugnant. Fear is no way to rule. Fear is no way to follow. And yet, that is the state of this planet. The fearsome and the fearful. I don't want to be either. I don't want to concern myself with fear at all. But then, should I chose to ignore my option, I'll be forced into it. John Lenon once said that you can have peace (only if you want it). I want peace. The murdered and slain innocent wanted peace. The abused and broken wanted peace. They didn't get it. And niether will I.

I see the faces of blind rage. Their eyes trying to devour me-mouths watering. I can feel their hate reaching out and grasping for my throat...fighting for the leaverage to choke me. I wish humanity imperfect happiness so they might truly enjoy their lives. But in return from a certain few, it's a malacious slaughter offered. A brutal death. They want to watch me squirm and beg for the life they had no right to take. I'll not fear them. I'll not be among the crowded fearful. And that only leaves me one choice.

As much as I want to be the cure for the world, I'm only a problem. I sit here and watch all these things go on that I have the power to stop. I hear the cries of pain that I would be able to ease. I'm lost in the sorrow of the berieving families. As someone told me, we are not built to handle death. We are not constructed in such a manner as to sanely process death and murder. It does horrible things to a person. No matter how vile the creature man has slain, he'll be changed. Jaded. Nothing will ever be able to lift such a burden, whether it's felt or not. And yet, it is necessary for me to take on this burden in order to aid as a cure.

The monsters have come out of hiding. They've clawed their way out of the closets of our youth. They've ripped themselves free from the prison beneath our beds. They walk in the daylight unchallenged. I wouldn't stand for it as a child, so as a man, how can I stand it now? Millions have died through history in their grand attempt to remove the demons of this world. Quick and painless...or a prolonged process that one would think was only capable in the unfathomed depths of Hell. And as a result of their sacrifice, people live on. They laugh and smile. They experience the aches of life. They've been afforded that opportunity, and what they choose to do with it is all their own decision.

I'll never give my life to a monster. Ever. I will give my life to a goal that the millions before me have done. I will sacrifice everything I love about life so that I can ensure those after me will be able to love the same. I am not the first. I am not the last. And as much conflict I have with my morals, this is the very essence of them. So how can they contradict? Simply, they have been misinterpreted.

I always wanted to be a hero. I guess now I'll have my chance. It's not the way that I thought. It's not as easy as I wanted it to be. It's going to break me, and I know it. Nothing has ever left more than a dent...but this...this will leave me broken. I feel it the anxious quivers...the tremors in my dreams. I'll be that noble persona at a price that I might not be able to afford. Yet, I can't sit here anymore. I can't watch the world deteriorate while I do nothing more than acknowledge the pain. I'll fight. I'll slay. I'll exterminate the vermin that thought themself too righteous to be judged by good and evil, right and wrong.

Out of all the comic book stars, Daredevil is my favorite. He's more realistic in a jaded sense. There is no illusion of joy. There is not pretty picture made to make the reality that much more appetizing. It's the cold, hurtful truth. It's the unwavering justice. And he's perhaps as tainted as those he takes down. I'll be no saint, but I'll be doing his work. With all the effort I can, I'll cleanse this world. I'll do what I can to heal the world, and if that means getting rid of the scabs, so be it.

My determination is hard to break. My will is hard to challenge. My mind is set, and it'll take the force of divinity to alter it. I live by my morals. This is where they've lead me. And those that question it...have chosen to turn their back on morality somewhere. Not everyone is willing to go to the lengths that I am. I understand that, and sometimes I wish I was apart of that crowd instead. But I'd trade nothing to be or do anything else. We all have our calling. This is mine.

"People sleep peacably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."- George Orwell.

"Tell them of us and say.
For their tomorrow.
We gave our today."- The Kohima Epitaph

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And that's that.
Referenced #2
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To write them.
Heart vs mind.