I’ve been accused of many things. I accuse myself of many things. I am a lost and uncontrollable creature that has missed the mark, missed the point, missed my opportunity, missed out on too much. But I am maybe a little too confident for such an admittedly lacking being. When I feel scratched by sackcloth and burned by the ashes. When it stings and smothers inside. When I fear I might be slipping into insanity. But yet emboldened to walk on. Even in confusion.