Cold, cold and cold rain is falling from the sky and onto the earth. I am sheltered but that is of little reprieve as I am also inside and I’d much rather be outside, but not in the rain. I stay here and wait and write and wait and write some more as there still are things that I need to get done, but this is assuming that I do indeed get them all done, of course. Don’t know where I’m going with this, so instead I might just just ditch this paragraph and start this over as then I can spare myself the embarrassment of revealing that I had made some sort of mistake (or error, if you will) and thus no one will know of this error and I can keep on going on with my life as though it had never happened. That would be quite delightful if I am to be honest with myself and all of you whom have read up to this point.
Now that I think about it, however, how long will it be before I will finally crack from the enormity of the pressure of having done such a thing? It is quite possible that I might feel fine for a little while (and that little while might just actually be a good while), but who knows what will happen down the track? I could end up caving to the hiding of my shame. I could end up collapsing under the weight of pressure to maintain the light that the opening paragraph of this bit of writing did not actually exist, and of course that would mean that I would feel the shame of such a thing. However, that shame would not exist if I just owned up to it in the first place, but then again the shame would be existing the whole entire time because I would feel some shame toward my actions. Either that, or it would eventually creep in as I unsuccessfully work at maintaining the lie I was trying to maintain.
Of course, with all of that being said, at the end of the day it would be my refusal to accept the responsibility and honesty of admitting to a mistake and owning it that would be dragging me down. Once the lie is broken, I would finally be able to feel some sort of catharsis or freedom. The thing is that once it is known, there would of course be some sort of consequences and my career as whatever it is that I do would no longer be able to recover. However, in knowing that I was freed from the burden of protecting deceit, I would now be able to forge my own path without the weight dragging me down and slowly eating away at my existence, thus leading to a position where I can walk into the future confident that I was now able to work on building a less guilt-ridden life. I’d be “free”.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 06:44:22
I enjoyed writing this. It seems like some sort of stock-standard plot and I’m fine with that.
That said, less repetition would’ve been significantly beneficial.
Written at home.