I’ve been staring at a blank page for a few minutes, deciding how I’ll be able to go about putting this into some words on (figurative) paper. I have this … idea … in my head; it’s more of a swirling collection of disjointed thoughts and little flecks of guilt combined with some aspects of logic, but in the end, I think everything boils down to one question.
Actually, it’s more than one question — it’s a hell of a lot more than one question (that implies that there’s a single answer) — but for the sake of argument, let’s say that it’s this:
Am I ethical? And if I am, then why am I making such stupid decisions?
Without getting into too much detail, over the past week, I’ve ruined someone’s life (this is most definitely not hyperbole), sent two people I care deeply about into a twisted triangle of a scene lifted straight from a mediocre sitcom, and did something illegal.
(Before anyone tells me underage drinking is okay, I used to do that, like, all the time. And besides, I’m 21 now.) (No, I don’t smoke weed.)
I feel like there’s a lot of things beginning to spiral out of my control. This sentiment is not made better by the disgusting fact that I have a twenty-page paper to write and instead, I’m sitting at home writing in my blog!
I’m tired. Just … tired, and angry at myself over the fact that I’ve probably made some very irredeemable decisions and made some people very sad somewhere.
Am I a good person? Am I a person which someone will be able to respect, to love, to trust? Because if the past week has been any bloody indication, I should be locked up in a psychotic ward and cut off to the rest of the population.
Especially people I care about.