There are some days where I wake up and feel like it's going to happen. Those days in which I know, I know that tonight, I'm going to mess up. It's unavoidable. I get a heavy pit in my stomach until I accomplish what I knew I would do.
It's never something I'm proud of. I'm always ashamed as soon as it's over with. And yet, I can't distract my mind from doing it. It comes in such a strong wave of persistence that I cannot dodge. I could say that I don't even want to do it, but at this point, I'd say I still want to. There is a little, little voice inside of me that wants to. It's the voice that makes me want to have fun and be young and not care about long-term consequences.
I know that before I rest tonight, it will be done. I knew it would happen, and it shall. As much as it shouldn't, it will.
Ironically, I decided to read Psalm 32:3. "When I refused to confess my sin, my body wasted away, and I groaned all day long."
I haven't felt more sick in months.
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