I write this for the boy who will never be first in the eyes of the woman he loves.
          I write this for the girl who falls for the man who cannot love.
          ...for the youth searching for the father that wishes to never know him.
          ...for the old mother who has long been forgotten by all those she cares about.
          ...for the homeless soldier whose country and society has turned its back on him.
          I write this for those who would spend their days and endless reserves of energies thinking of those who would not think of them.
          I write this for those who do not know any better.
          —Who toil endlessly for love that doesn't belong to them in hopes that they can alter their reality.
          —That they may make this life one that isn't so wrapped up in itself, but instead looks outward into the souls of others.
          I write this for those who still believe.
          ...for the utter loneliness that falls over one like a thundercloud as night falls and sleep takes hold; a cloud which must be silently           beaten off upon each and every awakening.
          I write this for the days that turn to weeks that turn to months that turn to years of repetition.
          I write this for the still aching heart.
          ...for the life that will never change.
          —But for the people who do.

          I write this for the hardening of character.
          I write this for the growth and change we suffer as time marches on.
          I write this for the man who cannot love.
          ...for the woman who has long stopped believing in such childish things.
          ...for the father who will do the best with what little he's learned.
          ...for the dying mother whose children are now by her side, finally.
          ...for the damp heap of clothes and flesh on the sidewalk that finds joy in the rare passerby glance.
          I write this for the tiny bit of our old selves we still hide squared away somewhere deep within our hearts,
          Hoping to let it loose on that someone who just might come back around.