Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
Like my dear friend S would say - you never ever feel as much as when you felt it for the first time. But the good thing about it is - it never hurts as much either. And with time it hurts less and less. And you feel less and less. And maybe, somehow along the way, after a really long while - you get what you wished for in the beginning. The only thing is, sometimes you loose every bit of yourself along the way.