a special pain

Why is it that we always manage to hurt and mangle those that we love more than anything else? Why is it they suffer the brunt of our stupidity? The greatest mistakes of our lives are often the downfall of great friends and great love. There is often no return from these places, no road leading back to a place you wish you had again. New roads must be built, roads that hopefully take us far away from where we find ourselves today, roads we cannot yet conceive. Why is it that we only wonder what we have done and take a close look at where we are, who we are, when bad things happen? Why are we all inherently so bad? I have always believed in the good of people, always found faith, but when there are no reserves left to draw from what is one supposed to believe in?