Somehow, even though I had the best intentions, I made all the wrong choices, and did all the wrong things. I used to be so happy, and everything was planned out–I was working towards something. And now I look around, at myself and my life, and I just hate it all. I have nothing I wanted, and nearly everything I didn’t.
I never did drugs, smoked a cigarette, and I never drove drunk. I never crashed a car, got arrested, or a ticket (yet). I never failed a class, got detention, or cheated. I work hard, follow politics and current events; I read; I’m smart; I graduated on time, with honors. I don’t steal, or like to be spiteful, or to cause drama, and I certainly never tried to hurt anyone. I trusted people; I never kept track of who owed what, and I always welcomed people into the group. I’m levelheaded and easygoing; I don’t perseverate; and I man up and work through my issues. I had big dreams.
But I ended up with no friends, no marketable skills, no job, no engagement, and no grad school in sight. I studied things that are at the complete bottom of the pile. I don’t have a safety net, I’m still fat and out of shape, and I have nothing to show for all that hard work. I managed to fail at life.
Life is not fucking fair.