The picture he painted was what i already had in mind and what i already didn't want to see.
I felt so much hatred and anger but yet ironically i found comfort between the tears. Comfort in his sanctuary, as if to say that i should know my role and play my part.
Why does water flow each time you speak to me? Why do you only speak to me when it has to hurt?

But you have painted me a picture so clear its blinding. I now know what i must do. All will be well.

then&now