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The Bang Bang Theories

A Scam, A Fraud, a Two-Bit Hack

When people tell me I’m nice, I feel like a fraud. 

Instead of relishing the compliment, I shrug it off and instantly the thousand asshole things I’ve done in my life pop forefront to mind. 

Why is it so hard to believe that we are good? Or is it just me, and not a “we” question?? 

I focus almost daily on my shortcomings as a proper member of society – things I didn’t do for someone. 

  • I don’t call or visit my dad (or aunt, or friend, or lonely old lady who lives up the street from my dad who I really do need to visit, but never make the time to do so) nearly as often as I should. 
  • I don’t give to charity – of money or self. I hate volunteer work. At least all the volunteering work that I’ve tried to date, I have not liked. 

Wait! I do give to charity – I just forget that I give, because I’m so consumed by the ones that I say “no” too – I donate monthly to the ASPCA. And then I save the rest of my giving for people who are doing walks/runs/bike rides, that type of thing. I have to budget for charity or it would be thousands of dollars per year, and I have a lot of cat food and litter to buy.  

Yet even though I give, I don’t feel I do enough. Obviously, as I needed to remind myself about the monthly donation I do make. It’s not top of mind. 

  • I don’t Return to Love as much as I should. I forget the guiding principles. 
  • My Mister gets under my skin and I get snippy with him daily. Sometimes minute-ly. I say mean things to him because fuck, he can get under my skin, mostly when he lets the burdens of the household fall on my shoulders.  But it’s not nice, is my point.
  • Daily, I feel like a failure with my life. I’ve underachieved, have not lived up to my potential, and have complacently/lazily allowed that to happen. 
Now, I’m not sure that’s a true statement, but I feel this way. I mean, I’ve worked at some jobs. I’ve made a decent salary.  I try to contribute to a product that has a positive impact on people’s lives in some manner. 

But perhaps I don’t feel that is the true meaning of my life, and not the measure of a man, as they say. 

However, if the true measure of a man is how much charity work they do, then I will never achieve contented status, see bullet point two. 

If it were only as easy as Pink sings, “Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead.” I try. I try to let “you’re nice” sink in when people are so very gracious enough to tell me that, but the voices in my head scream, “Fraud.” 

Even my voices are unkind. 

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