It's the sense of marching toward the grave; knowing the destination is impossible to reach, and still choosing to try anyway.

What I'm afraid of is hurting you. I'm afraid of perpetuating everything I've been trying to change or overcome or work against.

A confession, in recognition and solidarity.

I wasn't present enough to notice them in the moment; not as a failure, but as a condition of all of my experience to that point.

I refuse to live in a world without truth. I refuse to stay wrapped in chains of comfort and lies and the same fucking violence I've experienced my entire life.

What I confess isn't a sin or something steeped in guilt, shame, or self doubt that was never mine to possess. It's truth.