I want my shoulders to stop hurting. I want the pain to go away. I want my level of stress to go down. I do not want to feel attacked any more. I do not want to feel belittled anymore. I do not want to feel condemned any more. I want people to understand. I want my so-called friends to understand. I want them to care. But they care not. They are not my friends. They made choices. They believed lies. They swallowed the falsehood that I am an evil person. They stand on the side of injustice and condemn me. They avoid me. They will not look me in the eye. They think that I raped my wife. They think that I abused her. They think that I hurt her. They think that I harmed her. They do not know the truth. They only see through the distorted lens of her hateful vision. When they see me, they see evil. They greet my children after school but not me. They wave with no enthusiasm and no desire, only going through the motions because my children are present. I only say, “hi.” There is nothing else to say. I remain silent and allow myself to be hated. I am dismissed. They do not think that I loved my wife—but I did. They do not think that I cared about my wife—but I did. They do not know that I served my wife—but I did. They do not know that I supported my wife—but I did. They do not know that I did even when she rejected me, when she hated me, and when she violated me. She is perfect but I am condemned. I am condemned. This is my lament: “They hated me without reason.” Lord Jesus, do you understand? “I do,” he says. “Yes, I do.”