Why I’m lonely, or, why I might not have been:
It easy to blame your inaction on a disorder, a disease or doubt; it’s harder to lay the blame where it really belongs – “you”; a composite of “good” and “bad” where everything lies, and the only truth you care about is placing the lie elsewhere, on labels that you’ve mentally detached from yourself so you like to think that it wasn’t your inaction that led to nothing. No…it was the disorder, the disorder that isn’t me.
I constantly think of Katrina; who I liked and who liked me, scars I still carry on my hand. I like to think that there is nothing now due to me being what ailment I’ve got; which defines what I’m not…but this is a lie. I like to think that what if I knew then what I know now, I’d be holding her now…I like to think that the environment I was situated and thrown in was impossible for me to learn and know anything else at the time. I like to think anything but the absolute truth, I didn't act, and the act itself is what defines us; thoughts do nothing.
I knew this then...I know this now; I wonder if I'll make the same mistake again? Probably...I'm quite stupid, i.e., making the same mistake over and over and wondering why the outcome isn't different (Hume, bugger off).