. . . waiting in a line of people with their furry creatures. It's grooming day.
I look more in need of a haircut than most of these dogs; although they look dirtier (at least my dog looks dirtier; he's supposed to be white).
And what's on my mind?
Let me apologize--please--for my despair, for my pounding defeat, for my vacancy. It hurt you and you and you, and I am sorry. I wasn't thinking (although I should have been). I didn't understand (although i should have) how the destructive force was corroding and chiseling at more than just me. I hurt you. And for this I am immensely sorry.
(I would rather cut off a toe than hurt those I love. Pease don't point out that I would have no toes left by now. I already know.)
Thursday, March 14, 2013
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