On the lack of athiest absolution 23/2/22
February 27, 2022•292 words
Absolution. I think that's what I've always wanted, right from when I was young. That was always the allure of the heroic death. Not so much the medal. Not even slightly the medal. Just that those who saw you and those who knew you could believe that you did well. Could forgive you for what you have done. What you have been.
I've hurt myself and so many people, and the ones I loved most of all. The people closest to me, even. It was never the person I wanted to be, never the legacy I wanted to leave. And here I am, unable to talk to them. Unable to gain an absolution for something that I have never been able to stop. I have tried to be better, and for a while I have even managed. For a while.
I think I have always tried to escape what I was, and what I thought of myself. To distract myself from that with beauty. But I think she has taught me that I cannot be more. Nobody could or will be in love with me more. We shone, and we even reflected each other to blaze amazingly together. I don't know why I couldn't be happy. I don't know why it couldn't be enough. I don't know why I can't control my fears enough not to hurt people. I broke, and she broke. She will do well, and I think in at least some of the ways that she's beautiful she has just a hint of me.
I still yearn for her comfort. For her to tell me that I am enough. For her absolution, the only absolution that, for a while, I could believe. And I did.
I'm sorry, my love.