I don’t think we get absolution in this life. All we do is all we are, and it never stops coming back to haunt us.

All it takes is a flicker; the pit opens. Guilt consumes.

Things said. Things done.

Things not done. Things not said.

Roads not taken and all that good shit. Roads taken, but driven with the speed of a maniacal drunk, or a fugitive with no regard for life or limb.

I do not believe in sorry forever. I do believe in sorry now.

There is no absolution, even in forgiveness.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 317 words, comic: The Stuff #3

Read: Full Catastrophe Living, Jon Kabat-Zinn
Comics: Fables 126-127, Fairest 12-13
Music: February 22, 1994, Palaghiaccio, Rome, Nirvana (and thus ends, for now, my collection of Nirvana bootlegs)