The Saints Of Mibba
The Heroes Introduction.
This was the precise reason we’d made the promise at the beginning of the year. To prevent this; to avoid the whole nervous breakdown scene which, thanks to years of experience, had become nauseatingly routine to us. Not us, no no. We never broke. I mean, how could we? We were the angels in school uniform who swooped in and caught the fallen, inches before they were due to hit the pavement. The last five years of our life had been spent saving those around us. Whilst trying to kill whatever feelings of our own that begun to creep up on us to remind us that, we too, were human.
I’m not trying to make us sound heroic. I’m not trying to make us martyrs. I am, for once in my life, telling it how it was and telling it how it still is.
This is the fall of the heroes; the breakdown of the saints.
We’re not of another world; we’re not superhuman.
We’re just human – like you. We bleed, breathe brood and blunder. What sets us apart then? What makes us different from other people our age? What makes us so goddamn special?
We care. Too much.
Those kids you see crying in the streets because they know that they eventually have to go home – returning to whatever hell they escaped from. The girl who catches the bus with you and everyday her eyes scream out to you, begging for help. The boy who spends all his time perfecting every piece of work he churns out, in an attempt to seek approval from a person who will never give it. We care and try to heal them all – no matter how big or small the problem is – we’ll be there until it’s solved. Whatever it takes for however long it takes. We’ll be there.
I’m not going to lie, it’s a lonely life. In fact, I’m assured that if we hadn’t met each other we would be completely alone – going about our work alone. We understand what it’s like; how it is. What it takes. But also… what leading this life costs.
Most days, most times you want to die. You simply cannot comprehend the suffering in the world. The suffering in the lives of these people – these kids. You live in a country where you are led to believe that ugliness won’t touch you; that suffering and sorrow won’t bind you. After all, you’re a member of the Western World; where the shit hits the fan, but never hits you. Its mind blowing on a daily basis. For every person you help, every soul you save, there’s simply a million more that are lost. A million more that lose faith in heroes – a million more that lose faith in themselves. That last one, well, that hurts the most.
I realize that what I’ve done here is put us on pedestals; lifted us above the mediocre. But, honestly, can you tell me that I shouldn’t have? That I should have kept the real heroes – the true inspirations – down on the ground where they cant help but look up at false idols and convince themselves that they are not good enough?
No, you can’t.
Because, even though that’s how it is, it’s not how it should be. These kids – these heroes – should be seen, heard and appreciated. They are the people that are saving lives, and, you want to know the ironic part?
They don’t even know they’re doing it.
I’m not trying to make us sound heroic. I’m not trying to make us martyrs. I am, for once in my life, telling it how it was and telling it how it still is.
This is the fall of the heroes; the breakdown of the saints.
We’re not of another world; we’re not superhuman.
We’re just human – like you. We bleed, breathe brood and blunder. What sets us apart then? What makes us different from other people our age? What makes us so goddamn special?
We care. Too much.
Those kids you see crying in the streets because they know that they eventually have to go home – returning to whatever hell they escaped from. The girl who catches the bus with you and everyday her eyes scream out to you, begging for help. The boy who spends all his time perfecting every piece of work he churns out, in an attempt to seek approval from a person who will never give it. We care and try to heal them all – no matter how big or small the problem is – we’ll be there until it’s solved. Whatever it takes for however long it takes. We’ll be there.
I’m not going to lie, it’s a lonely life. In fact, I’m assured that if we hadn’t met each other we would be completely alone – going about our work alone. We understand what it’s like; how it is. What it takes. But also… what leading this life costs.
Most days, most times you want to die. You simply cannot comprehend the suffering in the world. The suffering in the lives of these people – these kids. You live in a country where you are led to believe that ugliness won’t touch you; that suffering and sorrow won’t bind you. After all, you’re a member of the Western World; where the shit hits the fan, but never hits you. Its mind blowing on a daily basis. For every person you help, every soul you save, there’s simply a million more that are lost. A million more that lose faith in heroes – a million more that lose faith in themselves. That last one, well, that hurts the most.
I realize that what I’ve done here is put us on pedestals; lifted us above the mediocre. But, honestly, can you tell me that I shouldn’t have? That I should have kept the real heroes – the true inspirations – down on the ground where they cant help but look up at false idols and convince themselves that they are not good enough?
No, you can’t.
Because, even though that’s how it is, it’s not how it should be. These kids – these heroes – should be seen, heard and appreciated. They are the people that are saving lives, and, you want to know the ironic part?
They don’t even know they’re doing it.