It’s funny how many of my problems are my own damn fault. When I sit down and think about it, almost all of the things that are wrong with me, and wrong with my life, are entirely my fault. Maybe there was some bad luck, or some accident of birth that contributed to them, but mostly, mostly they are my fault. God may have made me short, and odd, and nearsighted, but for the most part the faults in my appearance have as much to do with laziness, or a discomfort or distaste for putting forth excessive effort to improve my appearance, as anything else. It’s my fault I didn’t have friends as a hild- I should have been less odd.
It’s my fault I’m without an iPhone right now. I shouldn’t have just left the first one out where it could be stolen at Dorney- my fault!! It doesn’t justify the pieces of shit who stole from me, but still. Better decision making, and that goes down differently. It’s my fault I got mugged. I an justify otherwise, but I should have been paying attention to my surroundings. I shouldn’t have been so damn naive. I should have fought back. I should have been holding on tighter, not oblivious as I blithered endlessly on the phone. Off in my own little world, when I know full well the world is awful.
God may have birthed me to an awful family, but it’s my fault I let it bother me so much. It’s my fault I don’t stand up. It’s my fault I don’t have a better job. I could have picked a less useless major, I could have at some point gained the social skills to interview better. I could have at some point decided to be less of a loser. My student loan debt is my fault. My single status is my fault- my being crazy, my crazy family, my poor social skills accusing most men to just look past me.
My life is the way it is because I make it so. Because I consistently make poor decisions, and big mistakes. Because when there are forks in the road I almost always go the wrong way. And, I can make up excuses. And justifications. Ways to claim it’s not my fault. But when it comes right down to it- it is. All of it. It’s me not thinking things through, it’s me being foolish, or too nice, or too mean, and it’s me getting myself into trouble. It’s me consistently getting myself into situations that I an only halfheartedly dig myself out of.
If I were better, life wouldn’t be this way. But I’m not. So, this, all of it, is all I deserve, and all my fault.