sometimes, when I read your hidden words, I feel like killing everyone who has ever harmed you. i know you've never wanted this. you're not one of those people who'd kill in the name of justice.
there is something inside you untouched by monsters.
you suffer again and again because your wounds are far from being healed. and there is no promise of salvation for anyone. you cure although you suffer, but it will not save you. you cure, and you will not rise in glory.
p.s: my head is full of your words all tangled and hanging there. you have put them there, with thought and care. no empty person could have done something so beautiful.
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