All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
I know I have to, I can feel it deep down inside of me. I don’t want to give in and give up but I know that I have to soon. Sooner is better than later.
It’s following me, and I can’t take the pressure anymore, I have to give in and tell someone. Everywhere I turn it’s always there, in my room, at school, even in church where I feel closest to God. I can’t look it in the eye because I know of the consequences that I will have to face. The consequences that will eat me alive until I tell someone.
No one else knows of this but me, the dreadful deed that has been done; the deed that I regret. The deed that I will never speak about to anyone close to me, no matter what the situation is. I try so hard to put this dreadful memory in the back of my mind where I hope that it will never affect me again. But whenever I try, it never works; it always ends up crossing my mind over and over again.
I feel the need to tell someone, but someone that I don’t know, someone different and new. Someone else.
So I gaze across the city in need to find someone worthy of telling. Someone who will understand the thing that is following me everywhere I go. I keep searching for this commendable person. Then, I come across a homeless person in the park, who appears to have nothing. I know what it’s like to not have anything and to feel unwanted, so this is my worthy person. I will tell him.
I walk at a slow pace towards him until he notices me, then I pick up my pace.
“Hello,” I say to my commendable person.
“Are you here to single out me, like everyone else in my life,” he replies.
I’m shocked at his reply towards my friendly hello. But, I know that he must’ve been hurt before by someone whom he dearly loved, otherwise he would’ve been more open.
“Can I trust you with something that I can’t trust any other person with,” I ask.
He replies, “Sure, but why are you trusting me instead of one of your friends?”
“Because they wouldn’t understand my situation and the pain that I’m going through,” I say. I receive a nod from the homeless man. So I begin to explain.
“And now this thing is following me everywhere; it’s eating me alive. I know what it is but if I say it out loud then I feel that it will bother me more than it has,” I say to him.
“Then I shall say it instead, it’s guilt. Guilt is following you everywhere and is haunting you. It might go away, but then again it might not. Since you’ve told me it should fade away and not bother you, but if it continues to bother you than you will need to tell another person,” the wise homeless man responds.
“I never knew someone like you was so intelligent and wise. Thank you, and please don’t speak of this situation that I had to face; I think I’m going to tell her today,” I say.
“You’re welcome new friend. And it is a good idea to go and tell her,” the man says.
We exchanged goodbyes and off I went. I begin to walk towards her house to tell her of the dreadful deed. I have to tell her; it’s now or never. Then I finally reach her house as I ponder the thoughts in my mind. When I speak of this deed I fear for my life, but I have to tell her. I knock on the door to her house and then I she her. She looks worried for me, but she shouldn’t be. I can tell that she knows that I’ve been crying.
“I did it, I’m so sorry. I killed your mother, but it was an accident. I was helping my mother in the pharmacy and I gave your mother the wrong prescription. I haven’t told my mother yet because I felt the need to tell you first. If you hate me then I completely understand. I even felt so bad that I tried committing suicide but I couldn’t go through with it,” I spoke to her.
“It was a mistake and mistake happen; this just happened to be a big mistake that occurred in our lives. My mother would’ve forgiven you because you didn’t know, so I shall forgive you just like she would’ve,” she says to me.
“Thank you, it was my fault. The guilt is getting to me too, but I hope it will go away since I told you,” I say. Then she gives me the biggest hug ever as tears begin to fall down both of our faces. The tears feel like raindrops falling down my face. So I leave her because I can’t take this anymore. This Guilt.