Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, it has been seven years since my last confession…

The shit has really hit the fan this time. I wish I could explain why it's been seven years since I spoke to God in confession. I don't know if it's because I haven't been sorry until now or if it's due to the fact that I now have a real chance.

I hadn't realized before that I was actually better off in prison. Doesn't make sense, I know. But you see, there I was alone twenty-four/seven. I couldn't hurt anyone when I was alone. My fucking train wreak of a life couldn't hurt anyone. That's not saying prison wasn't hell on earth. Maybe that's why I thought I deserved to be out of there so much. That any out was a righteous one. Even the road that had landed me in prison in the first place. But I'm jumping ahead.

I think maybe the solitary confinement is what really did it. Or maybe the circumstances of it. You know Father, I think Satan knows where to hit the hardest. One more, he knows the exact time to do it. And it's fucking hard to come back from that initial blow. It's a big one. I helped a friend out, tried to right some wrongs in my past, and BOOM, right when I'm thinking I have a real chance, it bites me in the ass. It's strange to think that one of the most happy moments in my life is also one of the saddest moments too. I know I did the right thing, but you know what's really fucked up? Until a few days ago I wasn't so sure. I was so angry, at myself, my father, God… that I wished pain, death, whatever was to come on the people I helped all to have my son back. I even though I knew I couldn't bring him back, I was justified because it's what I thought I deserved. Revenge.

So yeah, let that anger build up while you're all alone and have nothing at all and see what you get. I was practically mad, Ken even came to see me but I wouldn't speak to him. He had nothing to do with any of this, if anything he'd saved me, but like I said, I was angry. Then me father came and offered up the deal. I sold my soul again, this time for freedom, for my just desserts. I condemned another man in the process, but he was a trivial part of my decision. To be alive again, to be a part of the human race that matters, that's what was important.

Kind of sucks now to realize that all I did was make it worse on myself. I did things I never thought I'd do again. I was back on the path to hell and loving every minute of it.

Another man died because of me. I let him be put into the hell my life had become when he'd done nothing wrong. I know I would have tried to escape if the situation were switched. When I found out I laughed. Oh God, I laughed so fucking hard. I was home free. There was no way I was going to be found out now. No one would be looking for a dead man. But that's not the way it worked out.

My new life was going as smoothly as could be expected. New drugs to try….it's amazing what's been done to LSD over seven years…new women to try…heh, it's amazing what's been done to women over seven years. It was like riding a bike. I felt good, I was happy, I was living a real life. My life was real.

Then like lightning striking there she was. Free and alive, living her life…a life she'd absent mindedly taken from me. Her presence was threatening to take away everything I'd just been given. I say that now to make the point that that was how I was feeling in the moment I saw her. My anger isn't there now…it'd be wrong for it to be. I've done so much more to her now. But anyway, I wasn't ready to give up my life again. I didn't want it to be over this quickly. So I used her, her old emotions for me. She was going to let me go, deep down she felt guilt for what had been done to me, and I used that. She let me go, but I didn't let her go.

And that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Trust me Father, there's been a lot.

I think another thing about the solitary confinement was that I never got to talk to anyone. It's amazing to realize how much a person needs their daily interactions to stay sane. Add in the fact that I was anything but sane and you get my point. Nothing had been let out…none of my anger had been realized over seven years. It'd just been building and festering and eating away at my insides. And here I was with the woman who I'd started to believe was the reason for all of it at my mercy.

I wasn't myself Father. I was anger incarnate. I was possessed…

And now she's suffered a loss that I can more than relate to, because of me. And for some oddity of fate, I was given back my son. I don't understand it at all. Why was my son brought back to me because I killed a woman's unborn child? It wasn't what I wanted. I know the loss of a child. Hell, that was the root of my anger. Like that our roles were reversed. I was the one who should have been guilty and she needed to be stewing with anger.

It's been a blur since then. A blur of the pieces of my life being put in some kind of order. My son isn't in my arms yet, but that's to come. I am truly sorry for everything I've said above. I don't know if I've given you reasonable explanations. I hope it was enough for you and God to know I'm truly sorry, for everything.

God's given me my millionth chance of a lifetime and I'm here to say that this time, I'm taking it for all it's worth.