The middle of my mistake.

I used to think I was too smart to make a mistake.
Now I know that was just wishful thinking,
self delusion.
No, I’m only smart enough to see my mistake
while I’m in the middle of it.
While I’m standing there
in the midst of my mess
with no way out.
While I’m doing the very thing
I know I shouldn’t be doing,
then I see.
It’s a sort of curse,
being able to realize the extent of your mistake
while you make it.
The knowledge that you’ll have to live with it,
own up to it,
remember it.
I’m in this pit,
an abyss of self deprecation and disgust,
but I stay there.
I finish making my mistake
even though I already regret it.
I’m in too deep.
There is no way out.
I have only to finish.
To see my mistake through.
and disgust,
those are my punishments,
self inflicted and deserved.
I could have stopped it.
I could have.
I saw what I was doing.
I saw my mistake before it was finished.
But I wasn’t strong enough.
Maybe I didn’t want to be strong enough.
Maybe I wanted to make a mistake.
Maybe that’s all I’m good for.
If I was better,
I wouldn’t have done it.
I wouldn’t have thought it.
If I was good,
I wouldn’t have wanted it.
If I was the person everyone thinks I am,
I wouldn’t have needed it.
I don’t feel good anymore.
Not in the middle of my mistake.

Thank you for reading! And maybe (definitely) follow me on Twitter?


2 thoughts on “The middle of my mistake.

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