Thinking of you. Thinking of everything. Everything that could have been. I sometimes sit up, late at night and stare at the stars. And look on and on. Staring deep into space. Wondering what would have happened if I wasn't the cause. The cause. Cause…. It haunts me. It threatens me deeply. It hurts me. It penetrates my soul. Devouring all the good inside me. Seeping through the pores on my skin, it gains access to the millions and thousands of thoughts running through my mind. It slowly creeps into my internals and travels along my veins and arteries. It sends electrical impulses through my nerves, traveling straight to my spine. It makes me vulnerable and it reads me like I'm a book. A book with information that is vital to his/her betterment.
I hate it! I blast my own anger and fury to it! Yet somehow I seem to fail! As if my opportunity was wasted. As if I wasted a living moment. As if I caused myself this hurtful, painful anguish! As if I am hopeless. As if I could never get something right for once. That was all I'd aimed for. And yet it seems that I have proven to myself that I was to blame. For everything! For this hurt. This pain. This anguish. This stiff feeling and curious weird feeling in my gut. I ball my fists together. My eyebrows crease. Beads of sweat runs from the top of my head in this moment. I feel ready. I feel ready to take my blame. Yet I have to prove that I am good. I am capable. I am able to get things right. I am able to bring us back to how it was 15 years ago. When it was better and much more prepared. Before the mistake I made; one so grave that it has put my life, and the lives of my fellow siblings, at risk.