I know I am troubled; troubled by my thoughts; thoughts that are judgmental and, at times, cruel. I am not mad. I am fully aware and convinced my life could not be other than what it is. I have not planned well or indeed, at all, and I know had I done things differently, I would not be who I am now but perhaps something worse, or better.
Oh, if I could only convey the sorrows I feel. Not for the things that have been done, but for those that have not been done; redress of neglect.
Confiteor… quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo, et opere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.
For Daniel Clayton.Photo Credit: Mike A. McDonald
3 people actually have something to say about this:
It seems to me you have conveyed your sorrows brilliantly with this post.
I am like you. Always wondering what might have been, but afraid to know, at the same time.
Oh, that last line. Like an arrow right to the heart. Um, not the latin one.
i know.
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