The damned thing's clearly not thick enough.
Read this and tell me why I should be able to live with myself. Because I never went that far? Because I got help - for myself and for her - and did everything I could to help her heal? Because it was so long ago? I suppose the one thing that brings some consolation is that my victim has long since forgiven me, and it is as much for her as for anyone else that I continue to live with the pain of what I have done, along with the unrelated stuff . . .
Fr. Robert Spitzer's observations on the perils of comparative identity cut the other way when you know you're worse than most everybody else.
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