I will not claim that what intend to relate to you with these pages is the story of a great man. Or of a man that made his time on Earth worthy of print. Infamy is no reason to be heard and so I wonder how deserving I am to have an audience of any kind. But truth is subjective. So much of it has already appeared in black and white, skewed to fit the inadequate research skills of some ignorant journalist. My memories remain in colour. In amongst the dullness of the grey stage of life it Is these recollections that reflect the dwindling light. Though I must maintain my fondness to prolong my sanity I know it is a dark tale.
I am unsure as to where my life would have taken me had I have chosen to walk away that day. I have no doubt it would have been considerably less eventful. Still I have regrets but I had made a decision. It may be a woman’s prerogative to change her mind but it is not a man’s. Once a commitment has been made it cannot be undone. Do not mistake this for a noble sentiment. It is simple cowardice under the guise of honour. It is much easier to march forward and claim ignorance to the creeping realisation that the morality of one’s action has become somewhat warped over time. And this, the very thing you’re doing right now in the present moment of this very second may be terribly, terribly wrong.
It is ironic how much strength it takes to appear a coward. This is a strength I have never possesses. Even now my thoughts are flecked with a delusional arrogance. Bu