The Weight Of My Mistakes

At times I am haunted. I'm not necessarily proud of every single decision that I have made in my youth, teen years and now adulthood.

Am I to be pitied? Is my soul black? In my quiet times, these are things that run through my mind.

I spend mounds of time and oodles of energy searching within myself to discover if I am a liar. Is the "face" that the world sees the true me? Or is the image I see in the mirror a better reflection?

When I was young, I spent countless hours watching families and people and kids and parents and random strangers. I took note on what I liked and what I didn't think was too cool. I was determined to be the "good" that I saw. Does that mean that inside I am foul?

When I was young (I don't remember how old, or what grade, but I had to be in elementary school because this story involves recess) there was a boy. I don't remember his name. I remember him having dark hair and being a large-er boy.

Each recess we went to the playground and along with my friends, I would spend the 15 minutes kicking him. And laughing. Granted, he came on out and took it like a champ. He would laugh with us. This empowered us more, so, we would kick him harder.

Then we would walk in the school and move on to math, science or reading as if we hadn't just bullied some poor kid and justified it because he was a willing participant.

I want you to know I felt NO remorse. None.

One day, after recess, (I wish I could remember his name) came to me. He was crying. He told me he didn't like us to kick him and that it hurt his feelings. It hurt his legs. He wanted me to stop it.

I was mortified. For some stupid reason, it didn't gel in my thick skull that I was HURTING him. It was all fun and games. Right?

I am relieved to say that it stopped that day. We remained friends. I moved. I lost contact. However, I'm ashamed to say that it took him pointing out my bad behavior before I even attempted to make a change.

Was I instrumental in forming a sad, lonely life for this boy? Does he understand that I am appalled that I did this? Does he know that if I saw that behavior now, I would come UNGLUED and stop it INSTANTLY?

Sometimes, I think it doesn't matter that I changed my ways. It matters most that I hurt him.

Bad decisions and mistakes gather on our shoulders and we stoop and sag from the weight.

I want to hold my head high. I long to look in the mirror and view the reflection with pride.