Let me down and you will convince me

Oh the taste of tea, the sweet, milk-sugary taste that you wish would last forever... You want to drink more and more of it and make it find no end. It's the same with disappointment, happiness, or loss. Sometimes you dip so deep, indulge in its nearness, almost drown within the warm walls of the feeling, that are so near you can almost touch them. You make them all stare at you, while you either beam or show a happy face, just proud to feel anything at all – and keen to show you do.

Nobody will believe you unless you let them down. Say nothing of where you are and what you feel, and they will leave their snowdrop heads down, as if no water had come to them for days. Make yourself disappear, it's a common form of disappointing. Show you are cool, and they will think you have forsaken them. Bestow no detail of you upon them, and they will frown when you do, because they will not know how much of yourself you have left for them to cut to imagination. And to all our dismay, imagination has the utter talent of exploring all non-happening variants, and so provides tons of feeling material and long, bittery sweet taste.

How deep and strong a faith must one have to even dare to think everything will work out fine?

Hold on, hold on, my brother.
My sister, hold on tight.
I finally got my orders.
I’ll be marching through the morning,
Marching through the night,
Moving cross the borders
Of My Secret Life.
(Leonard Cohen, In My Secret Life)