I just composed a post to Facebook: “To anyone in my life I have ever disappointed, hurt, insulted, or wronged in any way … I beg your forgiveness.” And then I deleted it. If I sent it, there would be people who would call, or wonder what the hell was going on, because I try to keep a brave face, but I’m dying inside. I know that there ARE people who care about me, my parents are still alive, and I would never wish to cause them pain, but I feel so utterly, utterly, alone. I can’t live with myself anymore.
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Some people deserve to be insulted, so yeah, it’s best to avoid blanket statements like that or you’ll end up with a little Cardinal Richelieu and the warrant scenario going.
So, no doubt, you feel very wrong. Wrong decisions, wrong words, wrong existence. But let me ask you, have you deliberately done things to harm others? Do you nurse hate in your heart for others?
I’m guessing you really are a nice guy. You think your mistakes are crimes.
They aren’t.
Life is this fucked up dance of Brownian motion. We bump into each other all the damn time. There is no stopping it. Best to say excuse me and keep on trucking.
When your depressed your mind just wants to magnify all those casual bumps into seven car pileups on interstate 40. It ain’t so.
My father forced me to go through several 12 step programs, bless him. I had to make a list of people I had wronged. In the cold light of morning I had a damn hard time coming up with specific crimes against humanity. Things like that weekend I fucked off instead of helping Mom reroof the house was not a major wrong; it was just… life.