It is my fault. All of it. Really, I am not taking one for the team. Everything is my fault.
Everything that is “wrong” in my life, I have caused. My relationships go wrong because I am a bad communicator, my jobs go bad because I am head strong and decisive, my friendships go bad because I am inattentive. Same with my car, I just don’t care enough to put the effort in it to keep it going at all times. No preventative maintenance. Just like my relationships, just like my jobs.
Sure, I am super, but good looks and a winning smile only gets you so far. Where is my substance? It isn’t there when it should count. I have been bad, uncaring. I have caused accidents, deaths, horrible horrible things have happened because of me. I take responsibility for it all.
Sometimes I feel like Aeon Flux, I kill people without even realizing that I am doing it. Once, was carrying a tray of food out to the dining room at Shoneys, and spilled just the tiniest bit of water. Instead of stopping to clean it up, the next person behind me broke their leg. She was a friend of mine, and I confessed on the spot. She never spoke to me again, you know why? I didn’t even go to the hospital to visit her. You know why? I was 18 and didn’t drive yet. I always have these good excuses.
Once, I braked too hard because I wasn’t paying attention, and the car behind me was hit by another car.
Once, I was helping my grandmother organize what she was going to give to who in the family, and she tripped over one of the boxes, and got a blood clot, and died.
My best friend, died of brain cancer. Because I didn’t tell him how much I cared about him as a person, and beg him not to use drugs, to have safe sex even though he was HIV Positive. Sure, I could have used my influence for good, but I don’t know how to beg, or cry, or show emotion for someone I actually care about. Sure, I was his only friend there when he died, supporting his mother, but I could not go to his funeral. It was too “public”. It tore at my heart, but I just could not throw myself into a whirlwind of public insanity that would have been his funeral.
I have had more friends die, than I remember names of. They would slip away quietly, and disappear, and die. No one knew where they went. It was the 90’s and AIDS was taking people left and right. In the South, my friends didn’t want anyone to know. They went back “home” and died. No friends, no community, no fundraisers or showy pagents. They just slipped quietly away.
So many people vanished in such a short period of time. Could I have done anything about it? I had safe sex. I was insistent of condom use all the time, so hopefully other people also became insistent, but who knows, I probably just bored them into complacency.
You can blame AIDS on me too. I didn’t march, I didn’t fund raise, I didn’t want to talk about it or do anything about it. I didn’t want it to exist. Imagining that every fund raiser out there is just a bunch of rich creeps taking money from caring people and spending it for their own greed (this was actually proven true), I didn’t want to be included in the drama, the emotions, they insanity of it all.
So I lived my quiet little life. Killing people left and right, maiming the general populace for no reason. I am sure, if I actually sat down and thought about it all, I probably caused a few suicides, drug overdoses, random shootings, and all sorts of other mayhem.
Just blame it all on me. I take responsibility. I am a bad bad person. So, anything I can do to make it better at this point?
If I had a good editor, my life would make an interesting story. There is danger, excitement, death, murder, drugs, sex, puppets. All the things the general public want to read about.