I feel guilty when she asks me why he yells at her, or what she did wrong. I can’t conceive of a way to bring her peace of mind. I feel guilty when she tells me all she has done to try and help him with his mental illness. She’s my mom.
I feel guilty when he tells me she’s manipulated us, to be on her side. I feel guilty for thinking he’s sick when he tells me he’s not. He’s my dad.
I feel guilty when she needs a shoulder to cry on, and I’m unable to be that for her because I desperately need my own. She’s my best friend.
I feel guilty when he loves me, and I don’t feel the same way. He’s my only true confidant.
I feel guilty when the one I love tells me I’m not enough. He’s the one.
I feel guilty when I’m too shy to be friendly. Guiltier still when people call me a bitch, saying I think I’m too good for them, as a result. It’s the people in the halls, at the parties, in the caf.
I am so goddamned guilty.
But I put my monsters to bed for the night, and tomorrow I’ll do it again.