Stage 4 – Guilt

Just in case you missed any. I know I added a bunch at once. There’s an order, hopefully you’ll figure it out. Hint: 1, then 2, then 3, and so on…

Stage 1 Stage 2 Stage 3 Stage 5

Stage 4 – Guilt

I was so happy to have Denial gone that I barely noticed I left the back door wide fucking open, for Guilt to come walking in.

Much in the same way Elation knew right who to talk to, Guilt didn’t fuck around with talking to the Heart or the Gut, he went straight to the Head. Before long, his constant hissing in my ear was all I could hear, and it drove me to the point of distraction.

. . .

Wow, you sure made a mess of things, didn’cha?

“Mess of what? Things were already messy, I didn’t hurt anything.”

Heh. Denial must’ve just left here? Yeah, everybody’s fuckin’ peachy. You ever stop and think about shit before you do it, dickwad?

“I? I try, why, what the hell are you talking about?”

You can babble all you want to Heart about ‘soulmates’ and ‘true love’ and all that shit, he’s a moron and he’ll always listen, but you really need to run that shit by Head, and even Gut, because you fucked up.

“What? What did I do that was so terrible?”

You went and posted that shit on Diaryland, dumbass. Did you ever think of how that would affect the Girl, or even MarriedGirl, you prick?

“Well? no, I? I guess I just wrote what I was feeling?”

FEELING? That’s the problem with Feeling, schmuck, it’s not THINKING. If they were the same fuckin’ thing, they wouldn’t be two different words, assjob.

“I just figured that the Girl wouldn’t read it, since I asked her not to, and I kind of figured that MarriedGirl wouldn’t even know it was her.”

Figured? Yeah, you figured. You and Heart deserve each other. You are both complete fuckjobs.

“Damn, I did fuck up. So, what should I do?”

Go Delete It, Asshole.

“Now? Just, delete it? People are already reading it!”

Doesn’t matter, Go! GO!

“But, wait. What if it’s too late? What if both of them have already read it?”

Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. I’m shinin’ up my Steel-Toed Boots, just for you, bitch.

“Fuck.”


Turns out, I was too late. They’d both read it and it understandably made things worse. Guilt was indeed waiting determinedly for me and, when he got the chance, reared back clear to Colorado Fucking Springs, and planted his size 11 SteelToe right between my legs.

I’m still limping a little from that one.

He’s still here too. He doesn’t hang around a bunch, but will occasionally come in from the side, and pinch the fuck out of the back of my arm. You know that spot where it hurts to be pinched like no other? Yeah, Guilt’s got that spot zeroed in. He’s a mean-spirited fuck, and I’ll be happy to be rid of him, whenever that is.

Guilt couldn’t have prepared me for what was next though. This guy was a fuckin’ nightmare.