Excuses

You end up in prison because of a failed excuse.

Whether you like it or not.

It was an accident. Drugs were involved. You weren't really you. You don't remember what happened. The gun ended up in your hands, somehow. You didn't mean to hurt anyone. You wish that you could go back in time. These things wouldn't have happened if.

If you didn't find the gun. If you didn't take the drugs. If your friend wasn't there beside you. If it wasn't dark out. If there hadn't been that sound. The sound of something unfamiliar. Fear. The trigger. How your hand shook. How you dropped the gun. What the sound of blood sounds like, exactly, exiting from someone you love. It was the weather. The full moon. There were things on your mind. You panicked.

In prison, you wake up when you are awoken. You eat when you are fed. You sleep when the lights go off. There are no excuses. No.

I couldn't do it because...
I'm sorry, it's just that...
Maybe...
You wouldn't believe what happened...
I'm so sorry, but...
It's not my fault...
I was busy...
I couldn't because...

No. These words don't exist in prison.

There is no excuse for my best friend's death. I did it. I killed him. It was me. And it kills me. It hurts me. And I have to deal with it. I don't want to deal with it and sometimes, I don't know if I can. But I do.

I learned the hard way.

An excuse just doesn't cut it.