Domino effect

I've seen the posts. I've gone through my emails. None of it is pleasant. No, that's an understatement. It reads exactly like me, but through a glass, darkly. It's scary.
But that's getting away from the point. Need to focus here. I suppose, at this point, sorry just doesn't do anything anymore.

There's no point in lying. Not exactly fighting the good fight here. More like digging my heels in against a landslide and trying not to fall over. It feels like a string of dominoes. You push one over, and watch the rest topple in sequence. And the next domino? Guess who.

And you know the part that really hurts? The feeling that you could have stopped things. That somewhere, back along that very long list of places you went wrong, making a left turn instead of a right turn, choosing whether or not to pick up a family in the woods in Montana, choosing to run when you could have fought. That making that one decision differently, would somehow put all the rest of the dominoes back up where they should be.

Now's as good a time as ever. Put this one off a little too long too. The white text, I'll have to trust you people when you say it's there. I honestly can't find it myself. And as for looking at it?

Elaine tried to show me on her phone once, highlighted the whole thing. The only thing I remember seeing is that blue "text is highlighted" colour, and then searing pain between my temples. Like the worst headache you've ever had. Like someone decided it'd be a good idea to run a few hundred volts back up from my eyes.

And then, just to be safe, I tried again. No change.

And then Spencer had it in his head to email me a shot of it. That went about as well as expected. I mean, not a bad idea, all in all, but it flipping hurts.

So, I'm sorry that promise is broken now, Elaine.
Even though sorry doesn't quite do anything now.
I'm sorry for what I've done. I needed to say that.
Though it's not like I can mend those bridges now.
They've already burned. Even the ashes are cold.
And I'm sorry I wish this could all end differently.
But wishes are for children, and the show goes on.