Is this naught but a selfish act of redemption?

There is no way out. Every path leads to potential disaster. Simple "I hope you feel betters" do cliched nothings. To list your options would seem cuttingly pragmatic, emotionally unflinching and cold. Yet to say that I empathise is presumptuous, because I am not in your predicament. I tread softly on these grounds, because every footstep is potential for an emotional pitfall.

Comfort is a tangly business. No where else can intent be so easily lost in the miasma of sorrow and frustration.

For all it takes is a quick lash of the tongue. The sharp recognition that all is for personal katharsis in the end. To assauge the need to do something in the face of the trauma. Once it is acknowledged, though, there can be no turning back. Its acknowledgement cuts off the spring from which such sentiments rise, clogs it with the silt of self-righteousness and necessity.

Perhaps you will understand why I am silent. Maybe you will forgive my fumbled efforts. Know that it is with these considerations that I chose still to try, and know that such odds, are simply undefeatable.