O Well

I have almost absolved myself from causing that emotional mayhem that a youthful spirit engages upon not having yet acclimatized itself to whom it is, or what it would become. All those lovers and haters bought into an early copy an unedited work in progress. It’s the pity of youth that we never give each other time for regret. Apologies may or may not arrive decades later often they are just told to the sky. Forgiveness is given and accepted between distant shadows of us. We tidy up past regrets in an old room long vacated, until eventually we arrive at that state of stabilized imperfection most of us hope to achieve.