The events resulting from my actions that day are among my most difficult memories to deal with. For the large part because it was my own doing, I have no excuses, and I could not offer up an explanation if I tried.
I instigated it, and that shame will follow me to the grave.
There are times when my heart is riddled with hatred and utter contempt, when I want to strike out and get my revenge. I crave that retribution, and pity myself for the lack thereof. But there have also been many dark, very drunken nights when I detest the face staring back at me from the mirror, knowing, that at least in my view, the reflection is not completely innocent.