I’ve seen that child somewhere else. In the mirror. Maybe you have seen that child there too. You wish the master would come and take your hand, and tell you to rise. But the messengers speak another word. Don’t bother the master. It’s too late. You’ll never amount to much. You’ll always be a disappointment. You’ll never fulfill your potential. Don’t bother the master. It’s too late. You’ll always be unstable. You’ll never have a fulfilling career. You’ll always fail exams. You are a relational disaster area, and you always will be. Don’t bother the master. It’s too late. You’ll never be the person you want to be, never succeed like the others, talk like the others, be as witty or as smart or as attractive as the others. Don’t bother the master. It’s too late. Why would the master come to your house and raise you? Why would he contaminate himself, make himself unclean by touching you? Don’t bother the master. It’s too late.