Sometimes I look through the window and see a child. A little four year old girl. I don’t know her. She doesn’t know me. I see her kicking a soccer ball around. Sometimes her brother joins her, but usually she’s alone. I just sit by my window and look at her. She looks so precious. I don’t know what gets into me but at that moment, I want to protect her from the world. I know it’s ridiculous. I know I don’t know her. I know it’s not up to me to do anything for her. And yet against all rationales, I want to protect her from what’s out there. I want to protect her from growing up and finding out the beauty of knee scars and slide burns. I want to protect her from getting her dreams crushed. I want to protect her heart from being snatched out of her body and stabbed until it ceases to exist. I want to protect her from finding out that the person she idolized was actually a pervert. I want to protect her from every painful thing in the world. I want to protect her innocence. I want to save her.

So I scream at the universe, don’t you see how fragile she is?

The universe answers, do you not see her tears? She is carved of bones and spirit. She is made of stars. The heavens and hell rage a war over her soul. And yet all you see is her delicacy.