I live through my farce

I die.
Not in the literal sense, but I do actually.
Confounding.
I awoke, in the bathroom decided to smile at the mirror.
The reflection, a happy individual I seldom recognize brought about the most interesting of thoughts: I die. In that I die, there lies not the realization of something never before begotten, for that has always been in the forefront of every action. No, therein lies the culprit of a life lived in the seclusion of reason and in the irony of the darkness that is the human capacity for thought.
I die, in that I die I realized that it is not the fear of death that encapsulates my thinking process rather a desire to submit to a relentless feeling of mourning for those moments in which I failed as a brother, friend, husband, father, son, and stranger among others.
The worse thing I have been on this Earth is a stranger.
I have been-become the incarnate memento mori of my own desires, where being reminded of my platitudes as an individual is merely enough to bring one down back to the forefront of one's life.
I cannot continue with the banality of this penance without first acknowledging the faults I have committed, the transgressions upon my fellow humans for which I hereby apologize with great humility, for I am nothing more than your mirror in this existence; a puppet of life's many errs with a costume of happiness draped over the smile reflected back at me this morning telling me to confess!
I do, I do profess my individual part in this fault and flaw in living I have committed and thus take with discontent and ire-agony to the page this litany, this plight for forgiveness for all those actions which I may or have committed against you and yours for which I had no control over. I abhor the actions that made me who I am, I commend the human that I have become, and I glorify a future in which this person can with all learned thrust upon the world the irony that is living, for I live through my farce.