I thought I was going to sleep. I was wrong! Hello insomnia! Here's a story.

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He thought back to everyone that had wronged him, and forgave them.

Another part of his mind, buried, cold, reptilian, hissed its displeasure at this foolishness, this pretentious Jesus trip. But he had listened to worse from it, listened to it, and, to his continued shame and regret, had even acted on these still, harsh whispers of venom.

"How," the voices continued, "do you even presume to have the power to forgive anyone? What is this 'forgiveness' you speak of? So you 'forgive' those who have caused you such suffering, such distress, such pain? So what? The pain is still there. Have you forgotten?"

"It doesn't matter," he answered the voices in his mind, "for I have learned from my suffering. If I were as boastful as you say I am, I would say that I cherish all such opportunities for growth. But I avoid pain like anyone else, often unfortunately at the cost of more pain to myself and even others. But everything I have endured has benefit, for I can use my knowledge to help others avoid suffering."

"Such pretty words," the voices spat, their alien clangor now more apparent with the rise in volume. "But you forget something. You claim you have forgiven others for the pain they have caused you, as if that meant anything. But what about the pain you have caused others? How can you, in your arrogance, presume to 'forgive' anyone else for causing you pain, when, in all likelihood, any 'injustice' you felt was done to you was merely their way of getting back at you for having caused them suffering? How can you simply ignore this?"

"I cannot," he said, simply. "I wish I could undo everything I have done to others. But this is not within my power."

The voices hummed with malevolent intensity, moving in for the kill. "See? You are weak, pathetic. You speak of forgiveness, some magnanimous gesture. Oh, how great you are, you who can deign to 'forgive' those who have merely sought to repay your own unkindnesses. All your words are empty. You are a child pretending to be king. What power have you? Who do you think you are? What unbelievable arrogance possessed you to believe you had the right or the power to forgive anyone else? Where would you even get this idea?"

"Because I forgive myself." The voices were silent for a moment, frightened, then resounded again, more dissonant than before.

"What difference does that make? How can you presume to 'forgive' yourself, you who have caused so much hurt in the world? What incredible pomposity! Let the world see you as you are, bloated on your own feelings of self-worth, your delusions of grandeur. How can you dare 'forgive' anyone?"

"Because they are human, just as I am. And in the end, our mistakes don't matter as long as even one person exists to gather up the fallen threads of our lives and weave them into something new. We are all experiencing life in all its awful, ridiculous, horrifying majesty. We are all billions upon billions of electrons hurtling into one another, creating sheer novelty for the joy of it. We are all whirling madly, ecstatically, through this insane dance of life, terrified, rendered speechless by the beauty of it all. Mistakes? There are no mistakes, only different threads in the pattern of life."

The voices retreated, sharp staccato snatches of malice. "What of the Holocaust? What of any of the other horrors and monstrosities mankind has visited upon itself and the world? You dare to write these off as some poetic drivel about creation and how there are no mistakes?"

"No," he said, listening as the voices crouched, waiting to leap for his throat. "It is only how I see it. I have no power to stop such things. All I have power to do is recognize myself as human, as is everyone else. I have the power to rid myself of hate for others, and for myself. And as long as I can draw breath, I will continue to do so, regardless of what I may experience."

Hissing, the voices drew back, unable to challenge a declaration of will such as this.