In the middle of the night, you hope for the bright of the day, but sometimes—or most of the time when you wish for it—it never comes. And that is okay. Staring into the depths, the dark black smoke of depression, of the abyss where you know you are in a bad place; however, you don’t know how far down that dark place can go. Stuck in a cavern, a free fall, with a sharp, jagged rock wall, silent, only small pockets of air released over you is what you feel and hear. Looking down is no use, so you close your eyes and wait for the ground but pray for a bounce back up, wings maybe, so you can make an otherwise great fall worth the fight. To make the pain of your mother at birth mean something other than a free fall into and onto a dampened hard rock, cold and coarse, the worst kind. With a sinking feeling that wings won’t grow and that the ground is nonexistent, stuck in a bottomless pit, you take one last look up and through the black smoke: it clears and you see a sturdy floor, you realise you weren’t falling and that all of your struggle was maintenance until you realised that you were otherwise in control, that you realise it was only a matter of time until you yourself would find the answer and be able to clear yourself of a fate worse than death. A predicted death of the soul. A regret that you haven’t solved your worst shortcomings and have been stuck at the mercy of your own attitude. That the things you could’ve had eluded you not because of fate but because of you. To turn into Cain, to not be able to fathom a life from then on, because living with yourself is now impossible. It is our survival instinct to be successful and I guess the Promethean fire, our ability to see into the future, to have a mind of endless imagination has made us build immunities to our own poison: our own rationalisation, or for the few greats of us, the will to face the unnerving stormy seas of undertaking an uncertain establishment of something built out of your own initiative and intuition. Putting yourself out there, naked, to be judged by nature herself, whether you are worthy to be called man or woman…or hero.