I am one of those people, like most people, who makes mistakes. Sometimes I find myself caught in the middle of a tornado of inappropriate responses to my own, predictably infallible, behavior. I battle, conquer and bury myself in a crypt of unimaginable stench. For those around me, and for those who love me, this is a brining in the torture barrel; they are charged with the crusade to render me somehow myself again. It is a crusade fought at the seat of the soul of our love.
Of course, the only reason I can say all this, being blind to my own bold revue, is that I am witness and crusader myself, for the ones I love who need me.
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