The Self-Flagellator


This is all my fault. It’s my fault that my father doesn’t love me. It’s my fault that my mother got heartbroken when I was a kid. It’s my fault that I let myself get hurt. Maybe if I’d tried hard enough to get him to like me, maybe if I’d obeyed him more, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have gotten beaten on a daily basis. I should have been more … something. I should have been more. I’m not enough. I was never enough, and I never will be.
But I can try to make things right. I can make the tough decisions that no one else would. They haven’t seen what I’ve seen. They haven’t lived what I’ve lived. It’s better for one man to get hurt if that’s going to bring peace. I will hurt that man. I’m a good person.
But why won’t the nightmares stop? Haven’t I been through enough already? Now everyone is leaving me alone. Even the woman I loved is leaving me alone. I am so alone. I knew it was impossible for anyone to love me. Why was I born? My mother would not have died if I hadn’t been born. I know I didn’t kill her. By God, I know I’m the only one who loved her the way she deserved. But it’s still my fault. I try to find out how, but even though I can’t, it doesn’t change a thing: it’s my fault. Everything is.

June 6th, 2019
 


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