A Simple Mistake

I stabbed a man the other day

I didn't mean to do it

It, was an accident

An honest mistake

Or least I didn't see myself doing it yesterday

that makes it an accident

Right?

There was hesitation at first

So I have to have a conscience

I mean, I'm not a bad person

I just made a mistake

As the knife went in I immediately felt horrible 

I was like, 

"Oh my God! What am I doing!"

When he died I buried him.

I'm not like those other people who just toss them in a ditch

I had compassion!

I'm not them!

I'm them, but I'm not them!

We all make mistakes!

I don't feel guilty, because I know in my heart I made a simple mistake

Simple Mistake? What makes your mistake so simple?

A mistake is when you simply do something you didn't mean to do. Its simple as that. We ALL make mistakes!

I feel you're confusing simplicity with ignorance and denial. Many of us here have made mistake, but NONE of us have made the "SIMPLE" mistake of killing someone. Because WE know that committing "SIMPLE" mistakes like your leads to "COMPLICATED" consequences, like the one you are experiencing now. 

Your honor, I no further questions for the defendant.

The Defendant may leave the stand. 

Junior's Dream

I had a crazy dream during my Junior Year of high school where I was cutting my left hand, with a giant steak knife. I started with my fingers tips and worked my way up to my wrist, cutting the hand into half-inch slivers. I then picked up the cutting board--fingers, nails, class ring and all, and began scraping them into a wok. I nonchalantly watched the the food, er--I mean fingers sizzle in the peanut oil as they hit the pan. The aroma was alluring and captivating. My eyes focused on the red meat as it became engrossed in heat, oil and my undivided attention. I just stared and stared and stared.

I was riding the kind of bicycle a 1940s Dublin mailman might of used when delivering his mail, down a dirt path. To my right, left, and above my head were incestuous trees that kept me enclosed, so that I could only head toward a bright white northern light. The path I was riding my bicycle down could barley fit my handlebars, or my head, and I was pedaling so vigorously that my velocity was greater than that of a 1990s Dublin mailman, eating a cliff bar while pedaling at top speed towards the nearest pub. I kept pedaling and pedaling towards the light to grow closer, but it was to no avail. I didn't get closer and nor did the light grow farther, instead the bike was stationary, and the roof and wall made of entangled trees moved, giving the illusion of movement. A tree branch hit me in my face.

As I was dreaming these dreams, I felt as if I was able to view the dream from afar, as well as in the first person. At the same time I was able to see myself sleep in my bed. It was like I was practicing some sort of mediation. Vipassana?