& I'm just a girl.

Choice.

And that's who she was.
Half of her was courage and half of her was fear.
She didn't get to chose the fact that those were her halves but she did get to chose how she tended to them. And for the tending of these two halves, she had two tools. It was much like keeping roses alive. You had to have much patience and if you did and knew how to do which things when the roses would reward you with their beauty.
The girl held these two tools in her hands; the tool to supress and the tool to encourage.

She had potential, that young girl. She could have done so many good things had she encouraged the courage harbored within her rather than the fear. But she didn't.
She supressed the courage and added fuel to the fire of fear. And she was scared and she was doubtful and she kept getting burned in the end.

She didn't know how to turn it around though. And neither did I.
So she stabbed me with the fear and she drove the knife in and she took another and another and another and she repeated the process.
But no matter how much of my own blood that pooled around me and no matter how much she hurt me I could not find it within myself to blame her; to hate her.

She had a past and not the best circumstances to hold onto the courage within herself. I could see that, anybody could. But if only she held on just a second longer maybe she would have been able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe the black and white would have melted from her vision and color would take it's place. And that, I think, is why I could not will myself to hate her. She had such a strong potential and I had known her before the fear took over. I guess that while she was driving those knives into my body I had hope she would return to who she once was.

If only she had the courage to see that she could have been something great. If only she didn't start giving in the cruelty of others. Maybe, just maybe, she would have stayed that innocent, happy, and carefree young girl.