I am a bad person.
That’s all you need to know. I am not a saint. I am not the victim. I am the villain in this story.
Shit happens. And in my case, that shit is everywhere. The hideous sight, the retching stench, it’s suffocating me. I tried to clean it up, to cover it with beautiful pictures and flowery scents but the shit's still there. I can’t run away.
And this is happening because I’ve been bad. Because I was selfish, because I’ve been a narrow, judgmental bitch who think she knows everything. But I don’t. Because I have these thousand questions in my head but had been too afraid to ask them. Because I chose to believe in my truths. Because I chose to wallow in my blissful ignorance.
But when the truth began to unravel, I took cover. Because the truth is like a thousand knives stabbing at me. I wish it had killed me instead, but the cruelest irony is that it left me alive, hurting me but still letting me breathe. The pain is unbearable; it’s nothing I’ve ever felt in my life. And I tried to protect myself, but most of all I tried to protect the one I loved.
But I didn’t. And there’s no excuse. I was damaged, but I’ve hurt another, too. And knowing that truth, having that shadow chasing you everyday is the greatest punishment. The harshest punishment.
I am a bad person. You’ve been warned. Now stay away from me.
(I hate it that I have to make this disclaimer, but I guess one is warranted or this post might be interpreted the wrong way, so: this isn't about me. It's just something I wrote down months ago. I can't remember the exact inspiration for this, but I wanted to write something about how in life, there are no clear heroes and villains. And that's how far I would go in explaining!)