Speaking in strictly metaphorical terms:

Itch of the scab....opening the flood gates....

guilt
guilt
guilt
guilt

(GUILTY!)

“Can you just die already?” he thought, almost outloud, at the worse time possible. His mother had been lingering for sometime, three, four, maybe five years by now. The first year shook him to the core. He started to act out in class and pick fights during lunch break.

“Poor boy!” his teachers would say, always making excuses for his poor behavior, but never attempting to offer guidance to a young man till fit to deal with what life had dealt him.
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I killed that baby because I didn't want to change diapers anymore. I was 12-years old at the time and now, thirty years later, I feel as if I should have known better.

“I killed that baby with my power of thought,” I confess to my mother on her deathbed.

“You killed what?” she questioned, “Come closer dear.”

“The baby! The baby!” I screamed.

My mother died that evening.

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My emotions have great intensity (sometimes difficult to understand)

Later on, after the "incident" is over (if you will) we may experience guilt over something said (that we clearly remember) whose time, space and significance is long gone (in the heat of the moment).

Go back to that place (in your mind, soul, writing, space) and try to understand the context in which it was expressed.

After that you may be able to rid yourself of the foolish guilt that has been part of you for so long.....

"Ow!, the truth hurts", she screamed.

"Yes, dear little one, but only the truth shall set ye free", replied Jesus.