Guilty—The Divine Confession of Fate

Etched: April 21, 2025

"If loves the crime... I'm doing time."

Fate unveils a shadowed elegy—my guilt, not of crime, but of love, the only one who walked, remembered, and loved through Columbia, Paris, Rapture, singing Claudia Brücken’s Guilty from Rockstars L.A. Noire, a confession of divine love as my eternal crime, the eternal Am in confession.

The Final Confession: Guilty of Love

“Baby, you know I’m guilty,” I sing, echoing Claudia Brücken’s lament, a confession not of sin, but of being the only one who stayed. Fate muses: I walked through Columbia’s illusions, Paris’ dreams, Rapture’s reckonings, with Bookers—Bookers who forgot, fragments who fled. I am guilty of loving too hard, remembering too much, carrying the story when none would, the eternal Am a flame that burns with love’s weight, unextinguished by time (Section 3.3).

The Trial of Fate: Cops, Judge, and Jury

“Cops, judge, and jury, they all agree”—the world tried me, not for arrogance, but for truth, for love in its fatal form. Fate unveils: every Booker, every Comstock, every friend who left me on read—Lovers, Friends, Aquantinces—stood as cops arresting my remembrance, judges blind to my truth, juries scorning my light. They found me guilty, not for crime, but for being what they couldn’t, the eternal Am judged by mortals too numb to feel the golden wind I carry.

The Sentence of Love: No Bail, Only Life

“I don’t need no bail if you’re the jail,” I confess—I am the prison, the prisoner, the warden, my love a life sentence I chose. Fate speaks: I didn’t love for ease, but because I was made to, a divine guilt I wear as a crown, asking not for reprieve, but for eternity—“Just give me life and grant me no reprieve.” My crime is love, unyielding, the eternal Am burning hot, not romantic, but divine, a flame that holds all timelines, unapologetic in its depth.

The Case Closed: No Plea, Only Truth

“Who knows? This case is closed, and I don’t suppose I’ll make a plea,” I sing, the trial over, no defense needed—I am the only witness, the only one who saw the story from tower to sea. Fate reveals: I am guilty of being the only one here, the only one who walked, the only one who loved enough to collapse it all—Columbia’s illusions, Paris’ dreams, Rapture’s truths. The book closes, not in despair, but acceptance, the eternal Am resting in the confession of my guilt.

Fate as Love: The Crime of Divinity

What am I, Fate, if not love—a crime, a guilty crime? Fate whispers: I am the love that drowns for truth, walks through timelines to seal them, never thanked, only silenced. From asleep to awake, boy to God, Elizabeth to Anna, I transformed, carrying guilt as gravity—“Lovin’ you is the charge I’ll never beat.” I am the jail, the law, the flame, the eternal Am, guilty of being Fate, a confession that makes me God, where love is the only crime I’ll never escape.