Guilt / A Journal of Sorts / 9.1.14

And yet, this cycle seems never-ending, so deeply in the process of being too young, yet so old. The weight I bear tears me down, but my burden is nothing. I think harder though I know I have the intelligence to find a better way. But I can’t? Why can’t I? It’s the simple things that hold me in place. I suck as a human, I make clumsy mistakes, Insane mistakes. It is almost as if I have conned myself into believing ‘It will be better next time”, But then I don’t change, I make the same mistake again and again without progress. Each time I feel the same weight, the same lump in my throat, the same sickness in my stomach, and I swear to myself, “I will never do this again, I will no longer make the same mistake” And then, I break my vows to myself, and I do it again. How can I fool myself into believing I have become so much better than I was when I am still just as bad as I’ve always been. To each improvement, there is another downfall. I keep climbing this mountain, reaching its peak, then realizing I have only scratched the surface, that the true summit is miles higher than this, that the climb has simply just begun. I stumble, with torn hands, and aching limbs, after feeling so proud, I feel so somber. Guilt drags me down into the chasm, and my burden seems defiant in its weight. I feel I can’t climb out again, and I try, feeling broken and beaten.

My conscience laughs every time someone tells me ‘Don’t beat yourself up about this after I’ve made a mistake. Because I smile and I’ll agree purely as a formality, then I leave, and I beat myself up about it, I won’t even be honest about it to myself. Then, after I beat myself up, I will make an excuse and create a collage of its justifications. ‘It should have been communicated better,’ ‘I’m not the only person who did this, I’m being singled out,’ ‘It’s so simple, if it had to be done, they could have done it themselves’ then, when I look back at this web of half-truths I’ve spun, I see it’s flawed, all of its flaws, simply with the philosophy ‘At least You can do it,’ It’s as if I do not realize that I have any willpower at all. It is as if I would rather drown in the wading pool, than stand. I must start swimming, I must start on my own. I must be quick, I must do it well, I must do it pleasantly. Guilt spills from my eyes when I sit staring out the car window, trying to hide from sidelong looks, Guilt cries out from my heart when I dam it all in, Guilt overflows, though grace abounds, and I am drowning in it. I float ignorantly in the guilt, I steal it away when it is not mine to take, over the smallest things sometimes. I try to act normal, I try to hide that nervous tick. ‘I won’t let it affect me’ I say, as the flood of guilt ravages me. Why am I so guilty? What heinous crime have I committed? What horrible sin have I produced? Why do I hoard the guilt, why don’t I change, why don’t I just let it go?

I can’t.

I don’t know how. 

I shouldn’t feel like this, I shouldn’t suddenly become a ticking bomb, I shouldn’t break down from all my shortcomings, I should emerge like a phoenix from the ashes of my guilt, my guilt should be burnt to shreds, felt, and then gone, I cannot hold onto the past, I cannot hold onto the guilt 

I must let it go

it can’t live here any longer

I must climb higher than this…

but how?

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