Journal 1: The Crime

I don't know what happened last night...I couldn't sleep or think clearly. I was coughing nonstop from the overwhelming smoke of regret and deception. He put a glass through my head, shot a bullet through my scalp and I couldn't move or cry, it was spiritual and not superficial. My intuition is telling me not to go but my soul is so wounded that it can't even recognize me again.

I'm so frustrated. Why does he have so much power over me? Why do you let them ridicule and celebrate at my expense? Why do you let them grow while I feel so small? Why do you let them torment me?

I am not guilty but I plead the fifth cuz I don't want to seem like I'm the one who did it, who committed it. A heinous crime of the flesh. A bullet to the head, a soldier left for dead, didn't I warn you he was dangerous. The plague of sin and unrighteousness disseminated my very own existence. Now I am left picking up the pieces of my puzzle and giving them to you to recreate the tainted picture left behind, I turn around and you're all that I have left. You're there but do you want to be or is this all make believe. I am guilty as charged and you are free to be.