Justice, to me, is not revenge. I don’t know what your perception or definition of rape is, but I was raped. Not penetrated, but sexually assaulted. Held against my will and touched and groped in an inappropriate way. I was raped and I was left on the ground in the rain screaming to high heaven, wondering what would become of my already unstable emotional state. That was six months ago, believe it or not, and I don’t feel any kind of contempt or rage towards the man who raped me; I actually feel sorry for him, because when I think about it, what kind of childhood or upbringing must he have had if he could resort to rape? And I pray that he finds someone to talk to, someone that will lend him their shoulder to cry on, someone trustworthy enough to be confessed to and convince him to turn himself in. I pray that he finds God. Justice, to me, is not revenge. Justice is not throwing a tantrum and demanding he be put to death. Justice is being just, being fair. Being fair to myself to move on and not “wallow in my sorrow”. I was raped, not killed; I’ve got a life to live, and I intend to do just that. Live your life. Hold no grudges, hold on to no pain. Free yourselves, and just be you.