Lying on the morning bed, I suddenly realise that a sin* I haven’t been able to deal with for years is gone. On its own. I don’t know whether it’s just because of the nature of things/sins or because it has exhausted its possibilities with me, done all the damage and caused all the offence it was designed to do and walked away, smirking, with part of my soul.
All I know is that I can't do anything about it any more. And a powerful wave of regret overwhelms me: the chance to sort out that little fucker and show to someone I care about that I do care has gone, for ever.
All I know is that I can't do anything about it any more. And a powerful wave of regret overwhelms me: the chance to sort out that little fucker and show to someone I care about that I do care has gone, for ever.
* not the one you think (which doesn’t necessarily mean that I haven't dealt with … oh, never mind: I'm not gonna discuss masturbation here; and least not now).
(It's just struck me: ture, I can't do anything about it, but I can do somethingwith it).
(It's just struck me: ture, I can't do anything about it, but I can do somethingwith it).
