If the grass is always greener on the other side, I'm pretty sure that I don't even have a lawn. Up until a couple days ago, I used to believe that I lived my life with no regrets. Or rather, the regrets that I did have were for the things that I didn't do. But they were minute and easily overlooked. I held onto feelings as if I was hoarding them, never telling certain people about how I felt. I regretted the missed opportunities, but I knew that (and I grit my teeth saying this) it mustn't have been meant to be. My life, just like I am, was perfectly flawed.
I must have become more jaded in the last week, because I'm sitting here cursing my own naiveté. Nothing is ever going to be "meant to be." My life isn't pre-destined, otherwise there would be no such thing as free will. While in other contexts, that may sound inspirational, here it's exactly the opposite. I've heard countless times from friends that think they're helping that things will work out for me, "[they] just know it will." Or that I'll eventually "get where [I] need to be." No matter how many times I've heard it, it doesn't feel like it's any more true. I'm stuck in a vat of tar, every step pulling me deeper into the abyss, and I was the one who drew up the map.
I'm being purposely vague as the cause of my inner turmoil is entirely my own doing, as well as ongoing. I made the choices to both respond and ignore to certain opportunities that were presented to me that has led me to where I am now. I used to believe that everything happened for a reason, but I don't see the reasoning for allowing myself to suffer as much as I have in my own circumstance. Life isn't out to get me. But I apparently am.
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