As I think and mull and despair over the disaster that is my life (unfortunately), I constantly think about that one option. But even as I plan, there is this guilt that pesters me at the end of every chain. I curse it, trying to be rid of it and trying to convince myself otherwise. The curse of this guilt that serves as my tether to my personal living hell.
I suppose I should be grateful for it even as I curse its existence.
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