I’ve been up for days
Trying to find a way to write this confession down
Seems every line I write’s a miss
At least this I’ll admit
For what I’ve done, I am not proud
But there’s no need to pretend, no need for innocence
I’ve got to be honest now

My verdict has come in
It says I’m guilty for my sins this time
I thought I could escape
But then I finally felt the weight
Of my crimes
It’s passion, it’s not love
Infatuation never ends up right
At least I won’t be alone tonight

You ever wonder if things you did in the past are what keep you awake at night now? It’s 3:22 am. I’ve need awake for a little over an hour just listening to the sound of rain.

When I was a kid I was mean, to pretty much everyone for everything. I was angry that my parents did what they did, and nobody in my family really believes in therapy, so I didn’t have an outlet or anything to talk about it. I didn’t really play sports, I mostly kept to myself, and I was a dickhead.

Up until age 20 I think I was unnecessarily mean to people, had an overall bad attitude, and didn’t know how to deal with it. When I was like 22 I got into therapy, and I’ll admit when I first started I was reluctant. I thought men just suffered in silence, which I still do from time to time. After a few months of therapy I realized I had an opportunity, I could break the cycle, even if I don’t have kids one day, I could break the cycle of angry men from my family. My dad was an angry dude, still is. His dad was an abusive alcoholic from what I gather. Maybe me and my dad aren’t so different after all.

The difference is my dad has always been controlling, jealous, a fucking lunatic when it comes to my mom. If I’m ever lucky enough to find someone I love enough to want to spend the rest of my life with, I’ll never be that guy. I don’t want to own a person. I want a person who is their own, but also we have a life together, and we grow both together and separately.

I don’t think I’m angry, anymore. I think now I’m a little sad, which is okay. Most days it feels like life is making me pay for how I was growing up. I’m unsure what to make of that, seems a little unfair to hold someone accountable for things they did as a fucked up kid. That being said I made those decisions and I have to live with them.

I don’t dwell on the past, or really care much about it. I learned some shit from it, and now I’m becoming a better person, but I don’t think that’s good enough for whatever higher power exists.

I think I was mean and made bad decisions, now I can’t have the things I want in life as punishment. I think I’ve reached the season where I’m starting to feel the weight of my crimes, and it doesn’t feel great.

Usually I hope for a better day, no longer holding on to all these heavy thoughts, feeling like the weight of the world is crushing me. Then again, I’ll probably always feel this way.

Cause I don’t want to be alone, tonight.

Where the skies are gold not gray,

J.