It's a conundrum my friend, let me tell you. Should she have to bear these scars like so many stones in her pockets? Weighing her down, making her feel as if she will take the final plummet at a moment's notice? I tell you my friend, she does not know how these stones will make her stronger. They will strengthen her knees so she shall not buckle under the malice of this cruel world. They shall deepen her breath so that she may last but a bit longer under the ocean's careless waves. They will harden her resolve, easing the tears of unforeseen adversities. Where is the conundrum you ask? The quandary is in if I could take all the stones away, would I? On one hand, I would relish the thought of wiping away all the darkness, baptizing her parchment clean as the day it was pressed. But who would she be then? Tell me my friend, would she be the woman I love without the scars that tell her story? Would she recognize me as we walked toward each other in the valley of our sorrows? I do not think my heart could withstand the pain of being feigned at as a stranger. No, my friend, I want her as she is. I want her scars and her pain. I want her resolve and her strength. They make her beautiful. They make her my love."
