What I did is not necessarily harmful in the present tense, but forcing an ex-flame to relive what was once was and what could have been is the cruelest thing one can. I’m certainly guilty about that. What I’ve done is ruined what should have been a night to remember, and that is the epitome of selfish in my eyes. Reparations are only available to those who truly deserve the sanctity of forgiveness, and I do not think I will ever be there. It may be this eternal sense of downfall that’s motivating this confession, I’m not really sure; what is known is transferable pain. Perhaps I wanted her to feel like s***, perhaps I’m truly a backwards being and my mouth as mouthpiece is something which must be silenced. Whatever the explanation for what I did might be, the excuse (as always) will be irrelevant. I do not deserve forgiveness yet I yearn for its safety. Pride cometh before the fall, and I have fell.