Kill me.

It is difficult to ask for forgiveness when you are not even ready to forgive yourself.

There's a mixed indigestible taste in the mouth - the bitterness of guilt, the sweetness of pain and the sour taste of what's always been sweet.

How do you prove intent? How do you compensate for loss of belief? Is there anyway to repair that fragile thing called trust in trust?

There isn't.
Things don't always go as you plan. Or as you want. Or as you mean.

Hate myself.
Wish it was simpler to quit living.