I am Guilty

This is my rough-copy creative writing piece on guilt;

I am guilty. I have violated even my own moral standards, to a point in where I no longer recognise myself or the decisions I have made. My eyes are fixed upon the floor, but they do not see the boards. My sight is turned inward, looking deep into my heart. I am not in the present, but instead, I am curved inwards, gazing upon my own thoughts inside my head, sorting through the ever-shifting ‘kaleidoscope on imagination’. If only I could fix things. My cheeks burn crimson red at the memory of what I have done, threatening to give away my guilty conscience and revealing what I fear most ; that the truth will be discovered. ‘The greatest friend of truth is time, her greatest enemy is prejudice, and her constant companion, humility.’ It becomes harder and harder to distinguish fact from fiction, while I move further and further from the truth with every lie. My insides are in knots, twisting and squirming. Every glance, every word and every sudden movement jolts me into the present. Do they know? Can they know? No, impossible. But, what if? Maybe they’re testing me, waiting for me to come forward, and shout, ‘It was me!’ However, if they do not know, what am I to do? Do I step forward, risk everything, and place myself, unprotected and naked against their judgement, and face what I have served out myself, come back double fold? Or do I leave the situation to unfold itself? Perhaps this dark truth will never emerge, never to harm anyone ever again and be forgotten with moments passed. Maybe I will be forgiven, maybe they will understand why, and how I had to do it. I cannot live a lie. Truth sits upon the lips of dying men... if anything should happen, I cannot go to the grave knowing what I know. The truth will prevail either way.