Letdown... Let Go

I know that disappointment is a part of life. I'm pretty certain I wouldn't change that; after all, it makes sense. The contrast is the gratification of something received, earned. It's exceptionally hard to put into words what a disappointment Oscar has been, since I never really had any expectations in the first place. I guess I expected everyone I met in life to have the same amount of self-respect I have. I've only discovered something I never thought possible: that there are people who can't, or won't, save themselves. People who think so little of their life's value that even when presented with the opportunity to have better than they ever imagined for themselves, they throw it away with both hands. They are attracted to the 'down', the 'empty', the sad parts of life. And to love them is to know helplessness in all its grotesque forms. To see the worst games played the dirtiest, the best dreams die the hardest. Is it a defect of one's environment, a defect in the process of living? Or is the flaw in that person's soul itself? All I am certain of now is that I have received a gift. Earned it, no matter how disappointed I am in his choices. I get time. I get another chance, unlimited possibilities, things and room to put them in; a cushy recess of eternity in which to lick my wounds, and the best nurses under Heaven. I did earn it, and earned it the hard way (though I don't disregard my helpers). And, by God, I'm proud of myself.