And now, this is where I delete everything. The man of perpetual regrets will ultimately obliterate everything he momentarily thought to be good. I’ve written a mountain of words lately, but now my heart aches, so I’ve reverted most of it to draft. Sometimes I wonder: why on earth did I start this in the first place? To my ego I say: just disappear. Be gone.
Last modified: 8 April 2022
