If You’re Afraid To Say, But You’d Like To Try

Lover forgive me, my guilt is my only crime
And I’ll carry it around till it breaks me down every time.

All it takes is the blink of an eye, the squeeze of a trigger, a sudden gust of wind. Wake up and your life is perched on a precipice; fall asleep, it swallows you whole.

I cannot take back what I have done, or what I might have said. Regret – it’s the saddest word in the world. The knowledge that I cannot do anything to fix it, or make it better in any way however big or small, is torturing me the most. I hate to look back like this, I hate saying things which I know I’ll hate myself for, and yet, I do it. Why is this so? Why am I being a totally different person from what I want to be?

I haven’t changed the slightest bit, haven’t become someone stronger or guarded. All that has changed in me is that I can no longer seem to project my emotions into something tangible. I cannot cry, nor bleed. All I can do is to sit here and replay everything in my head, and console myself with the notion that I am going to learn from this, and I’m never going back to what I was before. But the consoling isn’t working, the hurting isn’t easing up. I am left here unable to comprehend what has become of me. I am left here thinking about what has evolved from something potentially great to an utter tragedy.

I am left here knowing nothing except that this tragedy was caused by me.

I can’t forgive my naivety, nor my senseless hope and the pretentious way in which I’ve fooled myself. I guess the only way now is to accept that I am a fucking mess, that I am neither more mature nor strong.

Alvin, you were right. All I am is afraid. Now tell me what to do.