Once In A While Fuck Up's

I genuinely couldn't land on a title for this one — my head's just not cooperating today. I don't have a word for what I'm feeling, so I'll just write it out and let you name it for me.

I turned into someone I wasn't — someone who isn't really me. And honestly, I'm not proud of that. When I came back down to earth, I expected the guilt to hit. I kept waiting for it. It never came, and somehow that made everything worse. I just feel like crap, honestly — whatever word fits. What was meant to be a casual moment turned into something I never saw coming — something I need to say again: I'm not proud of it.

I had the chance to stop, I had the power to stop, but I didn't. I don't know why I didn't - maybe I didn't want to? Maybe I wanted was being offered to me? But I do know a part of me was "No" - that I would not see myself the same the same way. That I would loathe myself for what I was about to do. Maybe it was the alcohol or green that made me give in? But that voice kept saying "No" - God forbid a girl has a conscience. And now it's replaying in my head to the point where I'm starting to hate it - hate it because I know I'm not that girl - I'm always the bigger person - I'm responsible - and I always think before I act. Well fuck, my brain cells weren't working. I remember bits of what I did, but the problem is - I don't recall the things I said and how it got to that point. Maybe it is my fault - no fuck that - It is my fault. I did want it even though I knew it was wrong.

The worst part is I can't even talk about it openly, because I'm scared of being judged. I could tell my idiots — my people — and I know they wouldn't judge me, not really. But that's not actually the issue. The issue is me. I'm ashamed of myself. Ashamed of what I let happen, ashamed that I let it get that far in the first place. So instead of saying it out loud to anyone, I'm sitting here typing it into the void, hoping that somehow putting it into words will quiet some of the noise — ease this war that's been going on in my head.

I don't feel the same anymore. I don't see them the same. I feel awful about it — I genuinely can't believe I let it happen. I promised myself I wouldn't hate myself over this, that I could handle it, that I'd be fine. Turns out that was a lie. I wouldn't be sitting here writing all of this out if what I told myself back then was actually true.

I've held myself to a standard I've never broken - until this moment.

I pray God forgives me for this. And more than that, I pray I can find a way to forgive myself — because right now, that feels like the hardest part. Harder than admitting it. Harder than writing it down. Harder than sitting with the shame that's been sitting with me.

I've poured out every wound I've been carrying through this, laid it all out raw and ugly and honest — and even after all that, I still can't find a title for the misery I put myself through. Maybe some things don't get a title. Maybe some fuck ups are just too messy, too human, too much of a mess to be neatly summed up in a word or two.

So I guess this is where it ends. Not with an answer. Not with a neat little bow. Just with me, hoping — praying — that somewhere down the line, I find a way to look at myself again without all this weight attached to it.

- T.N