Remorse

I love feeling remorse. It means I am human. I used to be this stick figure, drawn on construction paper in kindergarten class.
I was limited then. Now look! I am alive and I breathe. And hurt. Just like every one else. I also love. They say love is a action. But to act, you have to leave the paper and speak. Now I do. I love. I do all of those things now.

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