At first, I feared you. You were a monster,
and here I was, trapped in my body with you.

You were fangs, claws, hissed words and glowing, scornful eyes. A shadow, lurking always at the back of my mind.

I wished you would go away.
I tried so hard to make you go away.

But then, we both learned to listen.

I listened to you, and saw how badly I was allowing people to treat me - treat us.
You listened to me, and saw how you had driven people away from you - from us.

I saw the chances I had not taken,
and you saw the chances that had been lost,
thanks to fear, to pride, to shame.

And so we made our peace, and walked into the future, together.

And now I see you today: kneeling to speak to children, holding porcelain and hands with the utmost care -

frail, small, lovely things in a world of coldness, of cruelty, that you rise to meet with iron in your eyes and sincerity in your soul -

and I wonder how I could have ever wanted you gone.