libberillious

On Exhilaration.

I spend at least 30 seconds carefully staring, and lightly laying my thumbs on the delicate send button on my phone.
Send. Do not send.
The contents of the message are fairly condemning. A 225k nuclear bomb. Everybody dies...Maybe.
Maybe some things can truly and exclusively exist between two people. Maybe events can fade into the fabric of space and time, no one has to find out, no one has to lie, no one gets hurt.
I don't know what's worse, the guilt, or because I don't actually feel guilty, I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. I know the consequences of my actions, I know that everything in my life would change forever in ways that I cannot even hope to understand. Yet, I keep my eye firmly on the trigger.
I mean, I loaded the message, right? I armed the bomb, all I need to do now is set the timer.
I press send.
I scramble to delete the evidence of what I just sent out. My heart races and I start to feel dizzy. You look at me and I feel like you can read my mind. I'm absolutely terrified. I feel my chest swell with instant regret. Why am I committing suicide? Will you ever forgive me?
I get a response. The situation escalates in kind. I feel hot all over. I tingle, everywhere, I haven't felt like this since....
Things escalate. Promises are made, others are broken. An appointment is reserved to make the final choice in this chapter. I'll have some time to mull it over.
I could stop now. Cancel the appointment, forget I ever made it. Never speak of it again. Things will be okay, plausible deniability and all that. Sadness descends upon me, crushing grey weight. It really does level the playing field, doesn't it. At last we are even.
I've no taste for revenge. At my core I have that pathetic trait of wanting to make everybody happy. Putting up with way to much, from people who deserve nothing of my devotions. As much as I'd like make choices that serve my purposes I've never been strong enough not to give you everything I've ever had.
Even now, I've done nothing real, and I worry for you. Wondering if you'd ever forgive me for ruining your life the way you ruined mine.
The victim returns to the scene of the crime....and becomes the criminal.
What's so wrong with taking what I want? Why shouldn't do whatever feels right at the moment? What have you ever done for me to instill or maintain this kind of blind loyalty? Weren't you the one took all those precious things away from me? What have you really done to make up for it? When was the last time you made me feel like this?
The send button has this terrible addictive quality now. I covet my interactions with it, anthropomorphizing it, foolishly deluding myself into thinking it can somehow give a part of me back that someone else took. I'm so awestricken that I might actually get what I want, I'm starting not to care about how I get it. If I believe down to my soul that I've done nothing wrong I can pass the lie detector. If I can convince myself that I'm doing nothing wrong I can rewrite reality. Can I give my self the same devotion I had given you? Like everything it's not a question of possibility, but probability.
I told you that you didn't want to stick around to see what happens after I lose all faith in you.
You've made this too fun for me to stop.