My One Mistake

a short story for creative writing.

My one mistake is my one regret. Rearing its ugly head to rage - to lies and thoughts of worthlessness. For self-worth is diminished when mistakes can not (will not) be forgiven. I regret to inform you that mistakes are forgivable only if you’re willing to let go. I am standing on the edge, too afraid to jump. I close my eyes and place one foot in front of the other. I feel air underneath my feet, yet I do not fall. Afraid to go any further, afraid of heights I dare not climb to on my own, I jump back. I jump back to the safety net, the blanket that covers and comforts me and all of my flaws. I am a fraud. A shadow which passes plastic figures in empty halls. These halls are empty to me. In my eyes, there is no one. I hear only muffled noises as the voices mix together and I attempt to tune them out. My one mistake will come to light if I open my ears, if I open my eyes. I remain a shadow on the wall " I’m a fraud, a shadow fraud. These people are plastic, plastic frauds. Everyone is hiding something. Their many mistakes. 

I walk backwards, slowly, checking for dropoffs. I live in constant fear of falling. I can’t let go. Often times I find that I’m holding on with one finger and still slipping " in a panic, I pull myself back up into “reality.” The reality of lies that I’ve come to know.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re too kind.”

“You’re amazing.”

If only they knew what I knew. If only they knew of the puddles, ponds, rivers, lakes, seas, and oceans of blackness that spilled from insecure inkwells onto my past. If only they could see how tainted, how dirty, my four walls are. My walls rise up out of dirt and mud, resembling the ground they grow from. My one mistake reflecting off of mirrors onto every. Single. Empty. Space. My one mistake is my one regret, and it bounces off my walls as Guilt and Forgiveness play a vicious game of racquetball together. Guilt is always winning.

I can’t shake myself free of these nerves, walking backwards to avoid the edge I came to. I know I have to jump sometime " revealing my mistake to everyone who waits at the bottom. They wait, mouths open, hungry to expose the truth. They wait, arms stretched up, fingers curving taking on animalistic forms, to strip the fraud bare, leaving me there exposed with no blanket to cover myself. Alone.

I’m afraid to step off the ledge. I’m afraid to let go. I’m afraid to expose my one mistake. I’m afraid to admit my one regret. I’m afraid to let them see me. I’m afraid of being alone. I’m afraid of dying that way.

I see death in the eyes of plastic faces, empty eyes that seem to stare into my soul.

Fear dwells in my heart, it nests there, chilling my core.

Right foot. Left foot. Still moving backwards. Backing away in fear. If I could only put one of these feet in front of the other, and inch my way forward " I’m tired of regression. It’s been a year and I’m still backing away. One day is too long for this mistake to fester. I surprised myself when I didn’t turn to run from it. I only backed away. Inch by inch by painstaking inch.

One foot gently eases in front of the other with sudden realization, though it hasn’t fully come to light. I’m walking forward. Running ahead. Sprinting toward the ledge. I jump. I at long last open my eyes to see the gaping mouths form smiles and the once animalistic arms are now outstretched for hugs of forgiveness and love. I feel wind in my face, arms outstretched " the fear melts away. The realization comes to light " my one mistake helped to make me ME. My mistake is beautiful. My mistake is too kind. My mistake is amazing.

Forgiveness won the game.

Guilt no longer plays.