mea maxima culpa

I was out of line the other night. (Surprising, I know.)  I wrote some things here that, though not untrue, should not have been written.  (How's that for an apology?  Reminds me of that wonderful scene from Anne of Green Gables, wherein she abases herself before Mrs. Lynde for being rude -- not because what she'd said hadn't been true, but because it shouldn't have been said.)

But in all seriousness, I am sorry.  On some level I forget sometimes that the stories I write here -- stories I consider in the moments of telling them to be wholly and entirely my own -- also belong to other living breathing people whether or not, or to whatever degree, we still inhabit each others' lives.  What I originally wrote has since been rewritten in the clear light of day, and reflects more honestly what I meant in the first place, a little further removed from that late-night place of insecurity and hurt.  It wasn't my intent to in turn be hurtful.

Unfortunately I share with Anne not only her fiery red hair and overly active imagination, but also a quick temper, a loose tongue, and an ugly tendency to hold on to a grudge.  All things to be worked on, and things that are being worked on, most of the time.  Also perhaps a little more discretion and, you know, self-censorship, would be in order.