i don't know how many times i wrote it, when i was doing all that writing last year, but today for some reason it hit me viscerally like it hadn't before: i'm not perfect. i am the opposite of perfect. i am flawed, and struggling, and falling, and failing. i hurt people. i am selfish. i don't mean this to be a self-deprecating monologue, just a raising of my hands - not to avoid responsibility, but to say, look, really, i'm doing the best i can. right now i can't see any way to live my life that doesn't hurt people sometimes; right now i don't know how to say no to love when i taste its promise. right now, i can't always unwind my desires enough to make the right decision. i can't always make the right decision. so i'm sorry. i'm not perfect, but i am trying.