[ WP ] I can not undo what I have done ; I cant un-sing a song that 's sung . And the saddest thing about my regret- I cant forgive me , and you cant forget

`` You've got to remember, the past is the past. It's set in stone and there's no way in our power we can change that. We may say our apologies now, but in our heads, our thoughts, our emotions....'' I sigh, recouping my thoughts, `` They say otherwise. Those who've wronged us deserve their consequences. We deserve ours for letting them wrong us. This is especially so when it's ourselves who wrong us.'' 
 
 Silence. Even the wind is silent as to respect us. 
 
 A tear starts to form, `` It may be when we're at our lowest. When we think there's no where left to go, no one left to talk to. Contemplating our own death because of the swirl of emotions within us. It can consume us, and if so, we have no regrets. But if not, what it does consume can change a person drastically. Whether for the better or worse is all on that person.'' 
 
 I sit down in the grass. 
 
 The tear flows down, `` It may also be at our highest. When we think we're nigh-invulnerable, at the top of the world. Thinking nothing can stop us and the path we're creating. It can blind us, and if it does, we do n't see the chaos and destruction we're creating as we leave the olden path behind. And if we manage to see? Well that, again, depends on the person.'' A little chuckle creeps out. 
 
 Another tear forms on the other eye, `` The songs of death and blinded victory play in their respective descriptions. It makes a person wonder why these are even songs.'' A smile cracks, `` As with the outcome of if you are n't consumed by your lowest, or blinded by your highest, the songs are different for every scene.'' 
 
 `` Hey! You alright?'' A stranger appears near. 
 
 I do n't look to the person, `` If I was, I would n't be here.'' 
 
 `` Well, then maybe you should leave. Get away from whatever's bothering ya.'' 
 
 `` Yeah... I think that's a good idea.'' I stand up, and the stranger hands a handkerchief. 
 
 `` You've got some long tear stains on ya. Should wipe those away.'' 
 
 I take the handkerchief and wipe my face, `` Thank you.'' I hand it back. 
 
 After that, I turn to see a friend. We head over to his car and drive back home. 
 
 There's nothing in this world to change the past, not by our power at least. I ca n't just forget something like I have an on/off switch in my head. I ca n't not be saddened, disappointed, furious, anguished, and utterly destroyed about the events that lead up to this. And if I were to forget somehow? Someone would remind me. This is n't something anyone just forgets. Not anyone close at least. 
 
 The best I can do is try to right my wrongs as best I can. No one will forget, and no one will forgive. 
 
 And they say that your hardest critic is yourself. 
 
 The past is the past. You should let it go. 
 
 And yet for some reason I ca n't.
