There is a despair in me that I cannot explain away with all my inventive genius. I can't put my finger on whether it's guilt at the consequences I have now chosen to add to lives other than mine with my selfish needs or if its pure wishful thinking for utopian win-wins. Maybe its a sorry mix of both - yes that's most likely it. I find myself praying silenty for a miracle - for it will take one for all parties involved to come out unscathed. And when I pray that I be the ONLY one to suffer the aftereffects of my mindless decisions, I am aware that it is neither greatness of character nor magnamity of my soul that drives me to want to fall on my sword. No - rather it is plain old cowardice. I could not live with the thought that the cost of my loves will be paid in someone else's tears. Every second of that pain they undergo will drive my guilt into me like a thousand white hot blades and the agony of knowing I wrought this disaster will choke me of any desire to breathe. I did not come this far, lose this much, hurt so hard, work so long to go slinking into the night as nothing more than a disappointment or a betrayal. But even the Almighty will have to execute some pretty fancy footwork to work out the tangle of knots I have inadvertantly woven into my life and those of my dearest ones. If my prayers are answered retribution will be a lightning shard that incinerates my very being to ashes without harming a hair on the head of those I dragged unwittingly into my perdition. Its funny how the least deserving of us are the ones to ask for the biggest miracles - isnt it?