It´s hard to look at the mountain. And it hurts.

But nobody ever told me about

atonement. I only knew of retribution. I´ve thought it through before putting it into
writing. You see, this is not the sort of thing one puts into writing, and yet… as devoid
of a faith I once cherished, confession becomes release without ever taken pain away
completely. That is the burden I carry for loving him. And it is pointless to have mind
and heart meander on whether I wish I had never met him… for that is simply not the
case.