You know...

The trouble is, they give you this pretty package called life, they hand it to you, and you pull the paper off only to find that it's a do-it-yourself proposition. Some assembly required. No instruction manual. Hunt up a picture for yourself, hold it in mind, and do your damnedest to create it.

And they don't tell you, be careful what you hold in mind, when you're little, and still fascinated with the sparklies and the ribbons. They say how cute she is, how innocent, and it can wait till she's grown up a little more. So by the time they get around to telling you, chances are, someone who knew that young minds are the most powerful has used you, stolen your potentials away... or so you think.

Life's an uphill climb, children. Settle in the valleys, and you'll never know what it is, to stand at the top of the world, and bathe in the unfiltered light. It's a gift, it's a job, it's a dream, it's a chore, it's a geas, an obligation. LOVE. Love, and love, and love, and love... and when it hurts, is when you need to do it most: you have to give it, to get it back. And you can pour the water into the cauldron of your life all day long, trying to fill it with your words and your pure thoughts, and it'll never be full. It takes tears of love, to make it overflow, but when it does, gods, it's worth it, it nourishes you like nothing else.

If you've never wept because you loved something, never wanted to open your skin and wrap it around something, someone, anything, anyone, everything, everyone... you're still living in the valleys, still playing with the packaging. And I've gotta know... aren't you the least bit hungry for the view?