All I could bring myself to do afterwards was write this pitiful remorse riddled, wrought guilt concealed entry in my diary. It was many years later before I would look at it again, this time struck on a new level of distain and self hatred so deeply penetrating that I even felt compelled to write this explanation as to why I did what I did back then. I stole it. I stole everything from that man. His home, his job, his family, everything. Even taking what was left of his final words and patching them together here for you now in a mishmash of coming and going. You see. I was never truly happy with my life until I read his book, the big bold letters on the cover; "All it takes for love in this world, is an honest heart and believing that yourself and everyone around you could and can be considered as something or someone who could be watching over or even just keeping the score in what you would give your all for".. Oh how I proved him wrong.
