The intellect that one has is held within themselves. They sit and they contemplate things in their own hell. Maybe they think too much. Too hard. Too soft. Too this. Too that. If. when a person sits and thinks of mistakes they have made, what are they truly thinking about? We never know unless they tell us. That’s the sad part. Sometimes we never really know what’s on someone’s mind. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so mean. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so ungrateful. But who really even knows that I would feel this way? Or you would feel this way?
I guess we would only know if we told. But in this pool of regret we all sit in from time to time; I wonder how deep does the water get? Is it up to you? Does it really depend on the amount of tears you’ve shed? Are the tears you shed measuring how sorry you really are?