Oh guilt. Guilt guilt guilt. Guilt, you are my every sense and my every thought. I am never without you. You are my guardian angel, guiding my self-control with a consistent and steady hand. I depend on you. I need you. I crave you.
Every bite of food is a gift that you have stolen for me out of the mouths of starving children. Every kilowatt hour I use, you have pumped it with your raw hands from the bleeding, crying earth. Every quarter I spend you have magically pulled from behind my ear. You pull luck from others and dump it at my side. You risk life and limb to bring me presents, and you pout when I do not thank you, in your oh-so-cute way.
I need you to check my whimsical foolishness. You are my calendar. You are my work. You are my socializing drive. I need you, guilt, else I be proud. I need you, guilt, lest I be selfish. I need you, guilt, for without you I will surely forget to savour every gift you bring me.
And when I love, you whisper at my earlobe of my debts to others. And when I embrace my lover, you cocoon me away, safely wrapped in the balance sheet of our relationship, only unzipping where the cells are in the black. You put my trust in a safety deposit box, to be opened only when I sign my sanity away to you.
And when I am alone, you are my historian and my biographer. My news channel and my chequebook. You are behind every corner, waiting to surprise me with a kiss. You are in every water, circling, my dear shark, and reminding me how I love you for not eating me alive.