I'm staring at your picture right now. Looking into your eyes, looking at your goofy smile and the way you cock your head to the side while you laugh. How I admired you. How funny I thought you were, how witty, how clever. And also, how kind.
I'm trying to see through it all. I'm trying to see a clue to what you really were. What you really are. How could I have missed something so blatantly obvious? How could I see you each week and not know the evil that waited under the surface.
You laugh at me from the picture. You fooled me, hurt me, humiliated me, and you know it. You're proud about it. And I hate you for that.
I hate you for a lot of things.
So many things and so much hate in fact, that my heart refuses to hold it.
I am forced to let go. Forced to forgive you. Forced to look past your wicked smile, your sharp teeth prepared to tear into innocent flesh, your eyes of smoke and mirrors.
And I see a sad, sad, sad little boy.
I cry for you. I cry for you, and what you did to me. You could have possibly taken away my future, everything I hold dear. I could lose it all, just by the choice you made. But I cry for you.
I'm staring at your picture right now. And I no longer see rage, fear, sadness.
I just see a picture.
It's just a picture.