People always have a stone in their hand when they don’t understand the darkness of others. They look at your belly, they look at your hands, searching for the mark of what you have done. But people don’t know what happens under your skin when it rains outside. They don’t know how tight the bed feels when you have to sleep next to a secret. Maybe someone will hate you. But it is a hatred that does not know you. It is a hatred that helps them feel more right, more clean. You do not have to be their saint. You only have to manage to look in the mirror without needing to apologize for still being alive.