I'm not sure, but I must tell, thoughts are so ephemeral and intentions so short lived.

There's something I've kept hidden from the face of rock molding winds.

You should know, before I tell you, that I try to think the less I can about this, for it is ridiculous.

For it is like a charm. I believe that if I think of it, it will vanish into a deep sea of uncertain truths and killing lies.

By saying it here, out loud, I risk killing it. But you see, I fear for it anyway.

But I believe... who cares what I believe? It is all about believes and undeclared statements.

And this secret has to do with believing.

...

For some reason, despite my pessimism, my ideologies, my self-provoked drama and my lack of attention; I've always had this intense assurance within myself that everything's going to be alright.

I know it might sound pretty simple and incoherent.

But it is not a simplistic optimistic view of things, I actually think that at the end everything will be pleasing, birds will recite poems, your eyes will tell the truth and uncover my soul, the future will only smile. There will be paper planes and there will be an us, and a you, and a he and a she perhaps.
It will all be okay, so now nothing can spoil it. No amount of wrong can ever destroy my self-assurance, I constantly defy it, knowing it is true: One day, at last, I will be irrevocably, utterly and hopelessly happy. And that will be a happy ending.

Absurd is it not?

My biggest fear in the world is at last finding out I was wrong all along.