At first it was your open hand, but then it became your fist. Over and over it was your fist. I couldn’t understand it those nights, those nights where you looked like a monster coming after me again and again. Why weren’t you the same man I met years, ago when your smile and caring actions worked to win me over. Now the mask you wore still resembled your face, but the anger and hatred behind your eyes described the evil in the world without one single word. I never knew why I was the target of your hate, I never knew why you couldn’t handle our anger in any other when causing bruises in places people wouldn’t see in the regular course of life. I never knew why the world could produce someone like you. What did I do to deserve it, was it because you weren’t ever happy in your life? Was it because you were merely that less of a man than anyone else around? I know you tried to prove it over and over, by attacking me like someone who is supposed to be your size and take action back. Each punch that connected showed me you were glad I wasn’t someone who couldn’t fight back. Why so evil, why so much hatred? Look where you are now and look where I am, my life will continue to move forward while yours will always stay in the past. I will fight for the better in this world while you stand for nothing. Each fist that connected is now my story, and my story will continue to grow.