Please tell me again why I had to suffer because of the pain someone else caused you.
I was convinced that pain marked a beauty on the soul that no other thing can,
A beauty that only manifests itself in silence,
When the soul decides to endure the pain rather than allow others to taste it’s bitterness.
And the soul then becomes the most precious thing.
But, much like physical beauty, this special beauty of the soul can be used in various ways.
The possessor of said beauty, now that he has paid the price to own it, could choose to never let others feel what he has felt.
Or he could choose to inflict the same pain on others, for he now feels entitled to be able to do so now that he has felt the same.
Both choices are fair, and both are available to this beautiful soul.
But he should realise that one of these choices has made his soul priceless.
And the other has made it the scum of the earth.