Ammunition

I cannot take back the terrible things that I've done. I can only regret them, resent them, and rescind them. Re, re, re. As if it's something I've done before. As if it's something I'll continue to do. Is it not enough to simply gret, sent, or scind? No. Because I've been here before. We all have. We'll keep redoing it because, similarly, we'll keep re-enacting our most horrible deeds. They do not rest. They do not die.

I do not mean to suggest that they are immortal, but it is only at our own deathbeds wherein our worst acts die with us. The effects left behind linger on, but from the end there is but one thing to do. The final rejection. From where there can be no returning to our ways. Death is the eternal change that lasts for less than a split second. Death is not a state of being - it is a portal. And through it, we cease to do harm to those around us, to the world around us.

Thus I can only be content to reprimand my own character in the hope that, in the future, I may not be so bold.

I am speaking of something greater than sin as it is conventionally understood. I am speaking of the anti-perfection. And it is a plague upon this world.

We must be content to reprimand our characters - to repress our poisoned natures and put in their place the weapons of our time.

Love. Life. Happiness. Compassion. Charity.

There is no shortage of ammunition. But of soldiers? Maybe. Are you one of them? Am I?