Born missing something in your brain. That piece that makes many crave attention and affection. When these things are offered you cringe in confusion. Knowing that others readily accept them but they seem rather uncomfortable. And you force yourself to act like you enjoy them because it makes others smile. One thing does touch you. The ones who are outsiders-ostracized-cast out-victims-pariahs. Their plight awakens an inner affinity.
Then there is the violation. Inall your collected data this only happens between adults. Between husband and wife. Between girlfriend and boyfriend. Not between adult and child. Not between two males. Deep down you know that this is monumentally worse than anything you have ever encountered. A primal evil. And you feel worthless because you are too weak to stop it.  You fight back kick-bite-punch-scratch but to no avail. It still happens.  And you inform the adults who are supposed to be your protectors. And they dismiss you. You tell them you can prove it. They prefer denial of this type of occurence.
Decision is made to become so powerful none can ever hurt you again. Training mind and body to become titanium solid is the only thing that keeps one from killing oneself from shame.  Buried deep within, the true self is stifled by the outward acts to seem normal.  And there are those who are trod upon crying out for help like the mute little girl called Kenshiro from far away.
 Maybe that is the reason the sickness comes. The fire that poisons instead of purifies. The growth that destroys in order to glut itself. The organism that necessitates even more deastruction in order for it to be routed and possibly beaten. Maybe that physical is a anifestation of the shame buried deep inside. Maybe that entity should be allowed to run its course and destroy the host because the host is too weak to be deserving of life. And the fire goes to ashes and returns anew repeatedly.
One day you awaken from the dream. And notice that there is nothing. Yes, the fight for the supplicants remains. The reaching out to those who need to be pulled back on the road. Yet that alone is not enough to sustain you.  Because your being is not that of a saint. There needs be something for the self to hold the tether in place. But there is nothing. No want, no desire, just rest.
There was never anything for you to begin with. You acted and reacted and now the tale is done.
But there are those whose story is not yet ended. Those whose tale is yet to begin. Characters who have been refined and polished by the flames and the anvil and the blacksmiths hammer. Heroes who must band together to save the world. Actors whose hardship will cause them to put on an award winning performance. Thos who would root deeply in and solidify the earth while standing tall and shaking the heavens. Â
Those who would live and brighten each others life.  It is them who the world needs.