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Being

My stomach twirls with nausea. I feel sick to my very core, with guilt. I jolt in surprise to the sudden irregular beating of my heart. It pounds loudly in my ears, almost as though it's going to burst out of them, dare I take a breath.

Is it possible for one to imprison so much regret? To become so overwhelmed with it, that it tears you apart? The remorse so ardent, that it sears through you, painstakingly slowly, corroding your whole being.

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