“I don’t think anyone understands the guilt. It rips through your veins when you least expect it, when you haven’t thought of it in weeks. The guilt that cripples you and leaves you running for the bathroom to cry and cut it away. The guilt that keeps you up late at night, and you can’t find a dry spot on your pillow because all the guilt has leaked out onto it in the disgusting liquids of tears and spit and snot. The guilt that paralyzes your body, that curls it into a fetal position, shuddering with the dry sobs that won’t come, that suffocate you. The guilt that isn’t beautiful or romantic or another glass of wine and a wilting flower. That’s what guilt feels like. And the worst part is that I deserve it.”

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