Look what have I done.

Morning.
[Not a good one — so I’ll skip that part.]
[Song in my ears :: Long Road :: I feel like a bug on this world’s windshield, moments from being smeared into a pulp of blood and flesh. [sigh..] ]

Look what have I done.
I’m not the kind of guy who rots away in guilt and regret over anything tangled up in “emotions and feelings.” I’m not the kind who carries the hangover of one small, impulsive night for the rest of his life. And I’m certainly not the kind who falls for a girl the first time he touches her.
No — instead, I’m the kind who decays from the inside, because I acted like a miserable, eccentric pig, with no feelings at all. Damn. I’m so ashamed of myself.

What in the world will I even tell her. There’s every reason now to believe she’ll never call, never see me again, and forget about everything that’s mine. She’ll be happier. I’ll be relieved. I won’t have to answer to anyone.

Dear phone — don’t ever ring again.

I’ll write an apology now. It won’t clear my conscience, though. God, please have mercy on my miserable soul.