the days go by and i feel the shoulders all cold and wintery. they turn tail and run to get away from me; this molester, pervert stalker. they want nothing to do with me.

i walk around the office with accusing eyes following me. their eyes remind me of what i’ve done. they judge me and pass down my guilty sentence…rightfully so. i am guilty for the things i done, i am guilty for hurting someone so close. i am guilty.

locked in a prison without bars, a prison without guards, locked in the prison of my mind. my mind is racked with guilt, with guilt, with guilt. guilty as charged.

they look at me and they look at me. “what happened to him?” they ask. “how could he do that?” they question. the answers escape my mind, because i don’t know why i did it. i just did it, without thinking, caught up in the moment, and now things are irreversibly broken, fallen to through the trajectories of entropy and disorder.

i never thought i would be capable of doing it. i never thought i would be. but apparently i am. does this mean that the thing that my long lost friend accused me of almost a year ago is true? does this mean that i am a bad person, horrible person, taking advantage of a situation that presented itself? it just makes me wonder is it true. is it true.

i feel that it is. i am wrong, i am wrong. i silently judge myself as the harrasser that i’ve been coined.

i am a horrible horrible person. i am a monster. i am a sick perverted sicko. i just am.