I try to meditate on what had just happened at the Keel-Bridge tonight. The more I thought on it, the more I realized there was something about it that was terrifying. I stare at the wall ahead of me, trying to piece it all together. I realized that I didn’t feel like myself anymore; I provoked a fight without regard for collateral damage, I hold people at knifepoint over hunches, but both of those I might be able to excuse on a really bad day. What I couldn’t ignore, however, was the fight itself. I felt nothing as I waited for him to overextend himself, and I felt nothing as I was about to end him after I’d already won.
What’s wrong with me?
I feel my heart sink as I place my head in my hands. I stand up and go to the sink in the bathroom, splashing my face with water. As I pull my head back up, I see that same figure, but this time she’s wordless. She just stares at me, and I stare back before walking out of the bathroom.
I realized that I barely felt any guilt for my actions specifically. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I’ve been handing the reins to hopelessness, to cynicism, and to
her
. Yes, that had to be the only explanation, right? I’ve been letting her guide my hand and my heart, and I should be disgusted at what she’s made me do, but… I just don’t have the emotional energy left to do that, and I can’t help but admit that it feels safer this way. I’m disappointed in myself, but I push it aside as I finally let myself rest.