You're one sorry piece of shit. A cop penitent, a flagellant cop-monk. This is not the right line of work for you. You should be grovelling at the feet of a feudal lord, providing lurid evidence against yourself at a Mazovian show trial, or ripping the flesh from your back with a cat-of-nine-tails. Whatever made you this way -- you can be damn sure it was *your* own fault. Do it. *Really* criticize yourself. Who knows? You might uncover something of importance from your guilt-ridden past!
Here it is. Hard facts from the man you are. You once jerked off in the locker room and were caught. You held a young woman by the arm and kept her in your apartment for 20 minutes against her will. That's right, these are not flights of fancy. These are *real deeds*, Harry, emerging from the darkness of your past. You tried shooting a fleeing suspect in the foot but hit him in the pelvis, crippling him for life. And above all, you let life defeat you. All the gifts your parents gave you, all the love and patience of your friends, you drowned in a neurotoxin. You let misery win. And it will keep on winning till you die -- or overcome it.
This page was last edited on 18 May 2021, at 16:25.
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