It's hard to shake the feeling that I've messed up.  That I've opened my mouth when I shouldn't.  Even if I've made part of it right, I can't undo it.  The problem with most of my "crimes" is that they are done.  Finished.  I can't go back and edit out the little parts that I don't like, or delete them altogether.  Because of that, I'm not going to edit this, or ever delete it.  I don't feel I deserve such a thing.
I suppose part of it could be that it's late.  Very late, actually.  I should have been in bed hours ago.  I'm sure tomorrow I'll be okay; satisfied with what I did to repair the damage and convinced that the original damage was not that bad.  But tonight, I don't feel that way.  Tonight, I feel awful.  I made someone cry.  Then I lied to get them to stop.  I rarely lie.  But, to be honest, the part that I feel worst about is the fact the I said anything.  I should have kept my mouth shut.  I feel cruel.  To add to this, I now believe something that I didn't before - that she meant part of what she said.  I didn't want her to mean it.  I still don't.  I am no one to say that she does not deserve to mean it - but she doesn't.  And I don't want her to.  I hope, with everything that's left from all previous hopes, (how much is there?) that she didn't mean it and that I'm reading too much into it.
How can I say something in what I think is a nice way and still hurt them horribly?  How can I hate someone who looks up to me?  How can I hate someone and still feel guilty for hurting them?  My only consolation is that I no longer hate her only behind her back.  She knows now that I do not like her.
No, that's a lie.  I'm not about to lie to you too.  I have other consolations.  Like the fact that this in itself is barely a part of my life.  Like the fact that I still have M&M's in my room.  Like the fact that he doesn't care that I messed up.  Neither does God.  (In passing, isn't that kind of cool?)
So here I am, about ten minutes after I started this thing.  Ten minutes that I could have been doing homework, wasted on telling you what I feel like about something that I haven't fully explained to you.  And maybe that's not such a bad thing.
Tomorrow, I'll wake up (on time, I hope), go to school, and think very little of it again.  I'll focus on what's ahead.  Tonight, I'm listening to the past tell me of my mistakes.