Shame...
There have been a lot of things that I have done that have made me feel ashamed of myself afterwards. There have been a lot of things that I had to get over, move past, or forgive myself for doing. The things that I have never really been able to move past have always been the ones that were out of my control.
I remember how I felt when I came back. You know, from the dead. From hell itself. I was in a crypt. In Los Angeles. And I look exactly how I had when I was being tortured in the underworld. Matted hair, blood dripping from various gashes. Covered in filth and naked. And crying. And I found a card, and called Angel. And he came for me. I was afraid of him, but he helped me. Picked me up, carried me to his car wrapped in his trench coat. He took me to a woman he knew with a spare room. He left me there, promising to return the next evening. I remember standing up and stubling into the bathroom. There was a full length mirror inside. I don't remember how long I stood there staring at myself. The mass or cuts, bruises, and scars. Dirt. Slime. Blood. I looked at myself in the mirror and suddenly felt more ashamed then I ever had in my life.
Ashamed of how I looked. Of acting like an insane person. Of the actions in my previous life that had put me in the situation I found myself in. I remember turning on the shower, the water scalding hot. I stood under the water and untangled my hair and washed it. I scrubbed my body until my skin was raw and my wounds bleed freely, but I still didn't feel clean...
I remember how I felt when I came back. You know, from the dead. From hell itself. I was in a crypt. In Los Angeles. And I look exactly how I had when I was being tortured in the underworld. Matted hair, blood dripping from various gashes. Covered in filth and naked. And crying. And I found a card, and called Angel. And he came for me. I was afraid of him, but he helped me. Picked me up, carried me to his car wrapped in his trench coat. He took me to a woman he knew with a spare room. He left me there, promising to return the next evening. I remember standing up and stubling into the bathroom. There was a full length mirror inside. I don't remember how long I stood there staring at myself. The mass or cuts, bruises, and scars. Dirt. Slime. Blood. I looked at myself in the mirror and suddenly felt more ashamed then I ever had in my life.
Ashamed of how I looked. Of acting like an insane person. Of the actions in my previous life that had put me in the situation I found myself in. I remember turning on the shower, the water scalding hot. I stood under the water and untangled my hair and washed it. I scrubbed my body until my skin was raw and my wounds bleed freely, but I still didn't feel clean...