Remorse

Remorse, come.

No, not regret. Everything that's passed has happened for a reason.

Everyone that's come and gone, there's been a reason behind that too.

Growth.

Dear lord please stop us before we become like Icarus;

I mean, isn't in our nature to overreach?

Wait.

Wrong race. We're genetically programmed to seek comfort.

So we settle - for half-truths, for ... relationships that drain our substance.

Pathological short-changers ...

We seek in others what we're afraid of finding in ourselves.

Who are your idols?

Why do you settle?

Why don't I settle down?

Perennially unanswerable questions.

So remorse come.

For all the bad I've done.

All the bad I'm going to do.

Just a sinner, who's gonna sin again.

But I'll be damned if I don't help someone along the way.

Why do I consider myself among the helpless?

"I listened to your problems. Now listen to mine."

Remorse ... Come.

Looking for perspective.

On life, lies.

Honesty. (No whole truths here)

I mean ... You can't handle the truth. I mean, who can?

I mean... But I'm not. Generosity's the virtue I aim for.

Come ... Remorse.

But I can't.

I've already rationalized all my actions.

For-the-greater-good.

But what happens when the greater good isn't good enough?