I confess when I was a boy I had unfounded contempt for a kid in my neighborhood who needed a friend.
I confess one day, he came to my backyard to play. I confess when I saw him, I said something in the vein of “Hey, haven’t you heard of private property?” I confess he said nothing and ran away. I confess I did not see his fits of rage at school as symptoms of a difficult life that perhaps I could have helped him through. I confess I am always haunted by this and terrified this cold-blood still circulates through my vascular systems.
I confess I cannot find a container in me large enough to hold this fear. And so perhaps it will help to put it here.