Folded paper


 * A folded paper covered with handwritten notes.

Description

 * Forgive me God for what I'm about to confess: sometimes I wish I never saved Dyson
 * Delaney from drowning when he fell in the canal. There, I said it.
 * Please forgive me Lord, for I'm just a sinner! Dyson may be the most frustrating case I
 * ever had to deal with since I opened my night shelter in the East end. For years, I have
 * tried to understand why this man regularly makes me so irritated, and I think I recently
 * found why.
 * Dyson has stopped fighting, for good and forever. I've met so many heavy drinkers in my
 * life, men and women, rich and poor, young and old. I've witnessed their fight with their
 * demons, their part, their guilt, and their failures. Sometimes, they can put a name on this
 * inner evil of theirs, sometimes they have never been able to identify the real cause of their
 * despair. But, in most cases, for these men and women, to drink is a way to keep fighting.
 * Of course, it is a useless and destructive form of struggle, but at least this self-destruction
 * means that something makes them suffer, and they still fight against this pain they feel so
 * deep inside.
 * Even a severe alcoholic like William Bishop keeps struggling with his addiction and asking
 * for a salvation, for the light of Christ. And as long as they wish to see this light, there is a
 * place for hope. Dyson Delaney has no hope left. He does not drink to smother his pain,
 * no! I'm now convinced he conscientiously drinks for the sadist joy of smothering all hope. I
 * really don't know what is a worst sin: to deliberately cast away hope from your own heart,
 * or complacently bask in self-destruction.