Notes on an Execution

by Danya Kukafka

We are created by what has happened to us, combined with who we choose to be.

Very few people believed that they were bad, and this was the scariest part. Human nature could be so hideous, but it persisted in this ugliness by insisting it was good.

Forgiveness is flimsy. Forgiveness is like a square of warm sun on the carpet. You’d like to curl up in it, feel its temporary comfort—but forgiveness will not change you. Forgiveness will not bring you back.

Though you refuse to look at the clock on the wall, you can feel them ticking by, slipping effortlessly from the room. Those seconds. You want to hold on to each one, to feel the texture of your life as it slinks regretfully away.