I tried, I thought.
I really did, or at least I hope I did.
I feel guilty because of what I’m afraid of,
But I think I tried.
I should have been more careful of what I was thinking,
Because I would come to regret it later.
Or maybe I wasn’t really thinking those thoughts.
Maybe I’m just overthinking things, and I should live in the now.
Because whatever has happened is done, and I can’t change anything even if I wanted to
Even though there is probably nothing that should be changed.
In the back of my mind, I should know what really happened
But I am too confused to even try to sort out the truth.
Maybe it’s because I don’t want to find out the answer, but I still think I tried.
Or at least I hope so.
I never felt guilty then, so why now?
If I had done something wrong, I would have known then, not just figured it out now.
I don’t want to go back to that, because I don’t want to feel the enormous weight of guilt riding on my chest again.
Or the lump in my throat before I cry.
I really think I tried, I knew the consequences if I didn’t.
So it doesn’t make any sense that I wouldn’t.
Then again, nothing makes sense any more.
I tell myself over and over again in my head that I tried,
But how do I know that I really did?
I know I should trust myself, but different answers surround me and make it hard to forget.
Forget what? I want to think, as if I don’t remember.
But all I can do now is just try so hard that there won’t be any question
And so that my mind won’t be able to play tricks on me,
Whether magical or logical,
I will make sure that I am real, so that my thoughts won’t circle around until I can’t tell real from fantasy
But they already have, and no matter how much I wish, I know that if there is a next time, it will just be the same.