No fault

Here's a sobering and, ultimately, utterly self-evident fact I somehow wasn't able to grasp before tonight: I have spent the past ten years or so, through a hundred retellings of the story -- from my perspective, mind -- hoping for and expecting someone to affirm my assertion that it was all his fault. When, in fact, there is plenty of blame to go around.

Or, more probably, no one is to "blame" at all.

Why did I wait a decade to tell the story to the one person I knew would understand best and, more importantly, tell me the truth I didn't particularly want to hear. Self-sabotage sucks.

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