I try, I really do try, with every fibre of my being, with my heart and soul, with my every breath and any number of other clichés you care to think of. If I could just… If I could only have… If only you hadn’t… the trail of lame excuses trotted out as reasons, not making sense when I know the fault lies with me. Words won’t change things, only actions, yet I am beset by inactivity, a malaise of laziness, lifeless and languid I appear relaxed when inside my mind races, my heart pounds, my ego shattered, my id lost.
And yet, this isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last. Why do I torture myself this way? Why do I keep repeating the same mistakes, the same errors of judgement, accept the same fault laden situations? Am I by nature self destructive? Do I crave the heartache, the pain, the suffering as some kind of endurance test?
Or is it simply that I am cursed…?