You'd notice, you say? I don't believe you. Are you God now, that you should see every fallen sparrow? Has your conceit become so great? You promised me the moon last year, and I paid you well for it, but here I am still sitting in the dark. Put your begging bowl away, and with it your false hope and empty promises. You'll not get another donation out of me—not one dime!—until I see results.
But still, I want to believe. I want to hope you will notice. I want you to notice, and learn, and understand, and carry the guilt like a millstone for the rest of your days. But you won't. No one will, not anyone who should.