49m
There's this peculiar opaqueness to not experiencing guilt--I know, in the same way I know that "good morning" is said before noon and "good evening" is said during dusk, that what I did is wrong, or that it made another person feel bad. But I feel nothing towards that knowledge. It exists in a bubble inside and apart from me, as I direct my body to move through the day and the hours passing. I don't seek out to do wrong. It offers no pleasure to me either. It's simply a fact of the immediate past, an action, something that happened, a scene like many others.
Which is why apologising is one of my most loathed parts of common courtesy--I do not mean it, and I am unable to convincingly lie.
