Guilt. It tears at the soul and pulls at the heart. 

Humanity, sympathy, empathy. Swirling around, drowning my very core in sorrow and panic. 

Once again I feel guilty for something I shouldn’t. Something trivial. It seems like the instant I feel like someone is mad at me I loose all confidence. Am I really this desperate for acceptance? It’s possible. Acceptance is hard to come by. Especially when you’re not the average Jane on the street. 

Guilt stricken.  It’s a phrase that seems to imply a sudden illness. An accurate image for the lightning strike of nausea and foreboding.

What about this time? A coworker drove a round trip of almost 3 hours due to a mess up he himself caused. I feel guilty for the miscommunication that caused him to arrive at an empty work building. Its trivial, and not even an event that I caused. Yet here I am, guilty of a conviction I’ve created in my head. 

I bet they don’t realize the sincerity of how sorry I am. Honestly – I shouldn’t even be sorry.

But I am.


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