when the rain washes you clean you'll know

"You're the hottest girl in the school and I...[have] legs that don't work. This shouldn't be happening, not because I'm on a wheelchair but because I'm obsessed with Angry Birds and my mum cuts my hair."

"I like your haircut."

"It's hard for me to believe that this is real. If I know that you spent even a little time sharing yourself with someone else, then there's one other person in your life that can provide for you things that I'm supposed to provide. That's just too much for me to take."

(glee)

Every person's circumstances are different but these emotions, these emotions are the same.

These insecurities are universal. On both sides, hers and his.

And there's one more thing that you've got, whether you want it or not. You've got me. It's not up to you, or me either, really. I would help it if I could. I'd have said no, walked away, hold back tears and praise my strength if I could. But I don't have that kind of strength.

Yes you do.

I don't. You don't know me. You have no idea.

At church, the incident was a cloud growing in my head and I couldn't get rid of it. Revolting. Asked for His forgiveness. Asked for cleansing. To be clean. For His snow-white rain to wash over my blood-red slate. Then I realised it was I who couldn't let go of it. Then I realised it was you.

He's written it off, forgiven me, forgotten about it like He said He would.

Hope one day you'll find the strength to too

and I wish you could read my mind just to realise what I don't know how else to prove