This one escapes me. It got away from me. It eludes me still.
It's not quite regret. I have too much pride for that. Regret would mean I thought I did something I shouldn't have or didn't do something I should have. Neither is the case. I deal with those things in other ways. I can deal with doing wrong, and I can deal with missed opportunities. What I can't do is stand idle while I'm accused of a crime I didn't commit. That no one committed. It's not regret because I still relive every moment of it without a thought to what should or even could have gone differently. It's there though. It can't not be.
It's not quite anger. Anger would mean that I thought somebody else did something wrong or failed to do something right. Neither is the case. I can deal with people trespassing against me; I gave up the right to expect otherwise a long time ago. What I can't do is accuse somebody of a crime I know they didn't commit. That nobody commited. It's not anger because I still relive every moment of it without an accusatory bone in me. It's there though. It can't not be.
It's not quite lust. Lust was never what it was about to begin with, never even a side effect.
It's not quite nostalgia. Nostalgia would mean I wanted to be back there, to have it again. That is not the case. I don't particularly want it back. I don't not want it either. I want what it could have become, what it almost was.
I could have used another day. I could have done it better, more completely. I could have used the power you all know too well, but where would it have gotten me? Most likely I would have committed the crime you already accuse me of. But I don't think so. I don't think that's all I am. Not this time. Now here's the part where I tell you something you didn't know: This one wasn't just the next in a long line. This was here the whole time. I was queued up in her line well before any of you even knew my name. That was my problem - too damn humble and too damn nice. I guess what I'm feeling is what I've had coming. If it was on somebody's purpose, then somebody won. I'd like you to know that. But I don't think it was on anybody's purpose. I don't think they could do it, nor live with it. They're not that kind, not a one of them, even the ones with a motive. So I don't blame anybody, and you can know that too if it sets you right. Sets me right that way. I don't want another vendetta; I've got too many enemies already.
I don't know if any of this means a damn thing to anybody but me. I don't know if I do. If it weren't for my pride....
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