Sometimes I wish . . .

. . . I could scrub my brain of all that has polluted it, but especially that which was of my own volition.

. . . that, instead of renouncing impure thoughts, I could just not have them.

. . . I was a simpler man.

. . . I had never been born. 

. . . I would die. (Sorry, dear reader. These two are both true, though, sometimes, though not nearly as often as they used to be. I don't, however, ever wish I could kill myself.)

. . . my faith were stronger. 

. . . that I could go back in time . . .