This is my confession to the gods of the universe. I am guilty, and I’m very aware of it. If my guilt were enough to make up for my mistakes, then I would have fixed them many times over, and a long time ago.
All I can think about is how I deserve to be punished, all that comes up is ruminations about all the ways everything good will be stolen away from me. All I ever worked for is to be only temporary, and judgement day is coming for me. I shall know no peace or respite, because I’m not worthy enough to do so.
I have deceived and lied, all in the name of survival and prosperity. I’ve indulged in my hedonism, and betrayed the trust of people who love me in the name of pleasure. I’m self-centred and fragile, I run at the first sign of fear or difficulty. I’m no hero, I’m no role model, I’m just another fraud who hasn’t done anything to earn his luck.
I haven’t loved enough, haven’t given back enough, haven’t done anywhere near enough to earn my redemption. I’m still guilty and the punishment has not been served yet.
Call it hyperbole, call it a dramatization, it’s all the same to me. To my mind, I’m entrenched in this evil I’ve done, and swimming in the harm I’ve caused, sinking into it like a shiny pit of quicksand. The more I struggle, the deeper I go, and the stronger my vices get, resetting the timer on my forgiveness, if any forgiveness is left out there for me.