I can't seem to focus with you here.
Even in the silence my mind is still chattering endlessly.
Your lips kiss your coffee cup and I know that I have no hope.

You have already won me.

Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon."
Said the old man, "I do that too."
The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants."
"I do that too," laughed the little old man.
Said the little boy, "I often cry."
The old man nodded, "So do I."
"But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems
Grown-ups don't pay attention to me."
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
"I know what you mean," said the little old man.

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

I don't hate you anymore.
You know, truthfully... I thought I always would.
Because you took something from someone that they weren't offering
and now they can never get it back.
One day a mommy and a daddy are going to have to explain to a little girl that not all big brothers are "good" and sometimes they have to go away so they won't hurt anyone anymore.
One day that little girl is going to grow up and she'll want to go on dates but maybe she'll be scared of men because a little boy pathetically pretending to be a man was worse than the monsters under her bed could have ever been.
I don't know what life is going to be like for her. I only know that these feelings inside never wreck you like I want them to but instead they keep tearing me apart and making me afraid of men as if I was the victim of your crimes. I can't live like this and as shocking as it is, and as long as it has taken, I actually have hope for you.
Maybe one day you'll feel this thing called "remorse."
Maybe one day you'll turn yourself around.
Maybe one day you'll recognize the truth.
Maybe one day you'll receive this thing called "grace."
I really just don't know. But until then...
I don't hate you anymore.

The words leapt off the page and wrapped themselves around her like a blanket warming her soul, caressing her most fragile thoughts, and comforting her fears.

They took hold of her shriveled heart and made it feel beautiful, hopeful, and alive.
Her heart leapt from her chest as the words had leapt from the page

and all of a sudden the words asked her heart to dance

and her heart quietly agreed.