Guilt

Just one more chocolate then, and then he must put the box away. Barry unwrapped the soft centre and after furtively looking left and right (even though he was the only person in his house), popped it into his mouth.
It was a typical Friday evening for Barry, in at home watching the telly or playing computer games. He could have gone out, he had lots of friends and Barry was a popular companion, but he didn’t like the idea of wasting all that money which he could be saving rather than drinking it away. And it wasn’t the same, not now.
He was still dressed in his work clothes, a shabby suit that had seen better days, and was getting just a little too tight around the waist. He poured himself another whiskey, and flicked through the channels looking for something to grab his attention.
The room was in darkness now, apart from the flicker of the telly screen, so Barry didn’t register the state of the rest of the lounge. He couldn’t see therefore the damp patch on the wall near the window, the torn wallpaper that had been scratched by his cat, which had long ago used up its nine lives, and the margarine tub under the leaking radiator valve. They were all things that he should have sorted, and in the mornings when he came downstairs, usually with a hangover and scratching his stubbly beard, he always notices these, and mentally adds them to his to-do list.
He looked at his watch, half past ten. Too late again to ring his mother, he must do that tomorrow – or even better pop in and see her. Even as he resolved to do this, he knew he wouldn’t, and that twenty-four hours later, or near enough he would be making the same commitment to himself.
Drinking too much, eating too much and not enough exercise – always the same mantra for Barry. It hadn’t always been this way, when James was sharing his house, sharing his life, firstly as a house mate, then as a friend, then as his ‘special friend’ as his mother used to call James.
They had been good for each other, everyone had said, but after a couple of years Barry had got bored with the domesticity of it all, the roses around the door, so had a very brief affair with a guy from accounts who used to give him a lift home. Once the affair had ended, Barry was so torn with guilt that he confessed all to James. He assumed that because it was all finished, he would be forgiven. James had packed his bags, taken his CD collection and left that night, and Barry had never seen him since.
Living your life feeling guilty for everything you’ve done, or not done, or should do is not a good way to life your life, as Barry is finding out to his cost.