Correspondence 1

(For a newer draft of this letter within the completed series of letters, click here.)

Dear Sophia,

I frequently wonder why it is we are the only creatures with the power of introspection. Humans, for all their aptitude for second-guessing and regret, are to be more pitied than all the other animals. While others my shriek and cry at the commencement of a torturous death, we contain volumes of woe so unspeakable as to never be uttered. Have you ever considered how much guilt we have put into the ground along with our ancestors and how the great majority of it never we breathed to a confidant?
Some of us know our own shortcomings and others never know them. Most are prone to only have presentiments of thorns in our side that never let us get comfortable. As I have gotten older and time has put a distance between myself and those events, I have gained a greater awareness of my own thorns. None sticks further than the one you placed there as a memorial to my misdeeds against you. It has not let me forget, though you, I pray, have long since forgotten me.
I cannot quit this remorse and though you have never known me to be anything but immature, I swear this apology is ripe within me. Forgive me, please, for what I did and forgive me too for conjuring up faded recollections. If I could rest, I would not take the risk of upsetting you now. I am glad to finally name my discontent and to make it publicly known, even though my audience is singular.
Whether or not it is possible for you to grant me clemency, I know not to interrupt you again.

Honestly,
Alan