The ultimate conclusion of constant analytical brooding (the unrelenting revisionist history of one’s self).
The need to confess and be absolved violently. But from what and why? Things that cannot be answered rationally. Things that must simply be done.
The lie you told and the emptiness you must bitterly defend when it resurfaces during implied silences and knowing gestures.
Faulting others because they are painfully similar to you.
Unused gifts. Both those kept in their original packaging and those lying dormant and atrophied because of their consciousness of wasted ability.
The guilt of not keeping in touch with loved ones when it seems so easy to do especially when you have a degree in “Communications” and 1,000,000 free minutes.
The secret longing that fantasizes fleshy surface gnawed away by metal teeth during an imagined elevator mechanical failure crash.
The never fulfilled or admitted desire to be completely weak and without will.
The space between waking and the first sip of coffee and the feeling of futility and dependency that accompany it.
Why did you treat her like that? You knew it was wrong and hurtful and morally indefensible before you even thought to say anything. It wasn’t love anyway, you just brainwashed her with poetry that you didn’t understand yourself.
Inability. Trial and error. Never trial and success.
The guilt of feeling guilty while knowing others have far more reason to feel guilty for than you ever could.
The guilt that can only be cleansed by knowing that a soul that knows is out there persisting on the same indistinct plane in the fog of existence. Humanity.
Thank you. By viewing your work, I feel like I have gone to church today and I do not even know what going to church feels like.