It never feels the same

I would give almost anything to do it over again.

I tell Them that I happy with who I am, that I have no regrets, that I am ready to take on the existence that They have crafted for me.

But I would give almost anything to do it over again.

And yet, it wouldn’t be worth it, because nothing would be different.  I made the choices I did for a reason, and I couldn’t change the Other People, the ones who I would do anything to change.

I don’t want to blame Them any more.  I agree with Sartre, that we are all responsible for what we make of ourselves, our lives.  I have always felt that I was ultimately responsible for everything, and if I had only been a little better, if I had only tried a little harder, if I wasn’t so fucking pathetic, then it all could have gone better.  It would be okay now, if only I wasn’t such a fuck up.

The abuse I have suffered at the hands of others, I believe I deserved.  Every hurtful word, every moment of neglect, I never questioned that they were within their rights.  I always thought they should do more, really.  I’m such a fucking piece of shit, so fucking pathetic.  Such a fucking waste.

And I CAN’T blame them, even though I’ve tried because society tells me that it’s okay to blame them.  Society tells me that it’s okay to be a pathetic piece of shit, and I can’t even accept that.

There are no words that can adequately express the loathing I feel for myself, every second of every day.  The words do not exist.