Douchey

10/30/23 1:38 AM

Everyone has a story, and every story begs to be told. If only to one person, if only to the wind, someone needs to tell the story, and someone needs to hear it. I feel like I need to tell mine, but then...I just get stuck. I can't make myself do it. 

I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just in such a bad place. I can't help myself out of it. I need to figure out how I got here, retrace my steps and find out where the misstep was. I've made quite a few of late, and trying to tell my story here might just be another one of those errors in judgment that I'm so famous for.

I really am a can of worms. All nice and sanitized on the outside, I probably could pass as good stock on the shelf, if one didn't look too closely at the "best by" date. But if I open up, even the littlest bit, reveal what is inside -- I become anathema. 

I am sorry I tried to pass myself off as good. It won't happen again. I can only be this dark thing in the corner with glowing red eyes, lurking, skulking, sulking. Not proud, not ferocious, but rabid, nonetheless -- untouchable.

I believed for a moment that I could be a kind, unselfish person, that maybe I was one. A hero even, to someone. I wanted that so much. Redemption. A chance to be something other than what I truly am. 

I thought I was doing OK, but I guess I wasn't fooling anyone but myself. I was discovered to have a fatal flaw, some kryptonite laying around, revealed my weakness.

Now all I do is mope. Wishing and hoping are out the window, out of the question. All those plans, those innocent ideas, tainted now. I am in need of cancellation. Pull the plug, drop the curtain. End of the road, Jack.

 

 

 

 

 Can you do something a little less--

  1. Douchey

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