Matter?

The first time was a simple choice. He did what he did because he was certain he was doing the right thing. He was so certain that he thought he would have absolutely no remorse for doing whatever he did and oddly enough, he did have no remorse. Well, at least not for a while, a very little while.

The second time though, because he had learnt from his first time, took him by surprise. He never intended for the same thing to happen twice, just with a different person. Granted the story, in essence is different, but the mistake he did was so much similar to his first time that he felt like he took his own car and crashed it on purpose and crashed it like there has ever not been a crash like that in all of history. He felt he had run over himself with his own car in full throttle and then some extra boosters. He felt like he had dove head first into pit full of boulders. He felt like he had played with fire and not in the safest of ways, and he got burnt for that, burnt so much that he suspected every part of him was smoked. He wanted to cry but he knew he had lost the ability to do so a long time ago. The first time was a  conscious decision, a mistake that he could identify and call out. A mistake that he knew was responsible for. But the second time? The second time happened so quickly and so swiftly that he couldn't even react to it. It felt unfair because he never gave consent to the situation that unfolded to unfold. It was almost like the situation wanted to laugh at him and his evisceration. He wanted to fix it but fixing is for things that got broken. Not for those things that had gotten shattered into a million and one pieces. He felt owed a closure. Well, no offense to him, but his feelings were no longer what that mattered. Maybe it never really mattered. Wonder if it did.