According to the odds, no one can singly make a "difference". There are just too many damned people in this world. Numbers are everything. Or so it seems.

Alas, the urge to make this "difference" is still in all of us. To just make such an impression. We all want to be immortal, if only for just a short while. Be remembered for what we did. Even if it was completely useless and negligible.

Altruism. That's what it takes. Such a small thing, when it comes right down to it. But no one is willing to try. Not even myself.

We are all tied to our egos. Forged chains of affliction and sufferance. Those of us remembered are those who are committed to the destrcution, however subtle and untraceable, of our existence. We harbour them in our thoughts long after they're gone. Long after their bones have turned to dust.

Yet, there is another hope. Such a weak, tenuous one. That of "love". We remember those who loved us. Those who cared. For they are few and far between. It may be that you will only find one in your lifetime. Someone who is willing to let go of a piece of themselves to reach out and touch you. To comfort. And somewhere, beyond all the hate and bleak reality of life, you nurture that "Love". Let it grow in the filtered light of your own emotions. And maybe, one day, you will be able to return it. To bestow the light upon someone else. Someone who is beautiful to you. Someone wounded by all the hate.

That, my friends, is how we will remain. How we will gain immortality. If only for a short while.

Your presence still lingers here.-Evanescence