Sitting and Blaming

If you want I will be the bad guy.

So I’ve sat in the dark and stared at things my eyes never see. I’ve stared out of my window and wondered why it was sunny. I’ve felt weights on my shoulders, pushing me further and further into the uncomfortable chair.

So I blame myself for everything. That’s why my hands don’t tremble when I reach for the whiskey bottle. That’s why my socks don’t match, because it’s all my fault. Nothing good is supposed to happen to me. Ever.

Sitting and blaming keeps the burning brightness of the sun right where it’s supposed to be. Outside. It keeps catastrophe from knocking at my door in the middle of the night.