A million times...
Sleep should be an escape and yet my conscience follows me there too. Nightmares, bad dreams - putrid, black water breaking over me. Stuck in a box where I can't breathe. A filthy, murky lake swimming with dead bodies.
Why can't I just be the person I am and accept myself that way, the way I was meant to be? It's exhausting trying to be this person I always thought I wanted to be, an angel inside out. Especially since I'm no longer sure what kind of person I want to be. Why should I flog myself because I can't be that angel? Saint-like, pure and unpolluted, constant halo shining over my head.
It's almost funny how the voices inside my head won't stop. They're laughing now, derisive, mean - 'That's right. Go ahead, justify yourself. Blame it on circumstances, your genetic make-up. Say it's because you were lonely. Say it's because you were feeling down. It won't change the fact that you have sinned and are therefore, still a sinner.'
Okay. Enough. I'm going to go easy on myself.
Because I know ranting and raving won't help.
Because I know I can't always be the good little girl I've always wanted to be, no matter how much I try.
Because I know I'm going to sin again tomorrow.
And the day after. And the day after that.
And will you like me less then?
Or will you respect me for the person I at least try to be?
I've made up my mind about it. I'll stay down here! It'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying "Come up again, dear!"
I shall only look up and say "Who am I then? Tell me that first, and then, if I like being that person, I'll come up: if not, I'll stay down here till I'm somebody else. But I do wish they would put their heads down! I am so very tired of being all alone here!"