Hopeless

At some point, it gets to be too much. 

Thinking about the past, thinking about the future. Being comfortable in the present. 

Each encounter is a landmine. Each mistake is a bomb going off so vast that the cloud follows throughout the day. 

Shame from each mistake lingers and touches each facet of life. 

The maker filled with shame, but endlessly forgiving as the recipient. 

Logic may be right, but it cannot overwrite feelings. 

It's too much. 

It's too much.