Here's a post that has been sitting in my draft box in various forms for, oh, about four years. I wonder if you ever feel this way? What do you tell yourself when you do? Where do you find comfort?
They stretch out behind me like the traffic on Parramatta Rd.
And still I don't learn.
Mistakes made in ignorance.
Mistakes made in thoughtless heed.
Mistakes made because of pride and arrogance.
Mistakes of wilful sinful desire.
Who needs enemies when you have mistakes?
They dart around my head in the lonesome black of night. They are imps; pinching, taunting, mocking, dancing their wicked jig. They pull my eyes open, their fingers like matchstick struts. I cannot sleep but must watch their eternal replay.
Where is peace? Where is the blessed, quiet sleep of the clean conscience?