I took the money. I'm so sorry.

Okay, here goes. I need to get this off my chest. It's been eating me alive for months. My grandma, bless her heart, she wasn't doing so great last year. Needed a lot of help around the house, stuff like groceries, getting to appointments. Me and my sister, we took turns. But I was always broke. Always one step away from being evicted. It's not an excuse, but it's the truth.

Grandma kept a little cash in a cookie jar in the kitchen. Emergency money, she called it. One day, I was really desperate. Rent was due, and I was short. I told myself I'd pay it back. I took two hundred dollars. Just two hundred. But I never did pay it back. And then she… she passed away a few weeks later. Now the cookie jar is gone, and the money's gone, and she's gone. And I feel like the scum of the earth. My sister’s been handling all the arrangements and she is a saint. I feel so guilty when she hugs me.

I know two hundred dollars isn’t a lot, but it was *her* money. And I stole it. From my grandma. I can't tell my sister. She'd never forgive me. I don’t even know if I can forgive myself.