Free will is perhaps my greatest fear. I have always admired people who have gone through shit that other people did to them. It’s pretty fucked up. I daydream about getting kidnapped, rescued and then recovering from the trauma. I blame the abductors. I am the victim. It is not my fault.
But it is my fault, when my life is shit because of choices I make. I failed classes in college. I took drugs. I was caught doing drugs from my dad. I refused to listen. I did not get out of bed for my classes. I stayed home and cried instead of seeing my friends. I. I. I. My fault. My fault. My fault.
I don’t think I’m ruining my life when I make these choices, but maybe I do. Fear is rooted in misunderstanding. I do not understand my mind, at least not totally. I know I am sad. I can sometimes identify a self-destructive action. But I do not know why.
Why are you depressed? Why did you fail these classes? Why are you ruining your life?
I don’t know. They are my choices. And I am afraid of them.
Slow Unlikely Cat 