Childhood Traumas

I'm so sick of hearing people's lame excuses for being... well, basically losers. Please excuse me for being insensitive but puhleez, your heart will be as equally hardened as you read the following examples:

Teenage girl: I cut myself because my father ignored me growing up and left me with a crazy stepmother.
Me: Oh so you mutilate yourself basically because your father worked himself to the bone to support you and your siblings and also went as far as remarrying so that you'd have a strong albeit crazy female role model at home.
The teenage girl, expecting apathy, will then proceed to spit in my face and walk away. Thank god for that too because her load of bullcrap was blocking my view.

Another example:
Grown ass man: Yea I do drugs because my stepfather abandoned me when I was 13.
Me: So the stepfather you hated as a child just decided to leave one day and to celebrate you tried your first 8-ball, eventually becoming addicted.
This man was a little more gentle and abstained from spitting on me. I believe that he was subdued by the drugs though. He just shrugged and got off the bus. I'm equally thankful for this too because boy, he stank.

So now, I sometimes contemplate who I can blame for all my numerous failures. I decided on blaming my baby brother for being absent throughout most of my life, particularly the first two years when he was not even born yet (that jerk!). It did not even stop there, either. He was not coherent enough to remember any of my birthdays for at least 5 years after that. And then for another 5 years after, he just cared enough to eat the cake, play a few party games, and take a nap. Talk about lazy. Jeez. On top of all that, guess what he did for my 25th birthday this year? He went to somebody else's surprise birthday party. That one really hurt.

Anyways, unlike those people including "teenage girl" and "grown ass man" that maintain a fatalistic view on life, I decided to turn my own life around by extending an olive branch to my brother. Yes, that's right. The other night, I went out and bought him a donut. I surprised him with it the next morning. I remember it clearly. How I tiptoed into his room while he was still sleeping and nuzzled the bag full of deep-fried goodness against his nose. He was suddenly awakened by the smell of maple and flour, looked up at me with those sleepy eyes, and said.... "Thank you." My heart swelled up with love.

But wait, that's not it. He pointed at his dresser. I was intrigued. Then he said "I got you something too. It's over there." My heart swelled up even more. I could see the faint glimmer of the present under the dawning sunlight. It was almost magical how much it glowed, almost like precious metal. Then I realized that it was just a Ferrero Rocher. He had eaten that other 2 that came in the packet and saved one for me. Wow, he actually thought about me when he ate those chocolates! Progress!

I was so flattered that I cupped that chocolate in both of my hands and went downstairs to announce to my parents that me and my brother had finally taken a stop forward towards being a little closer. Both their faces lit up. I wanted to call a halt to everyone's activities for the day so that we could go out and buy a guitar/banjo/whatever to sing "Kumbaya" around a campfire. It was that major of a milestone for everyone in the family. Unfortunately, when we took a vote, I was the only one that wanted my dad to call in sick for work that day. Plus, no one knew the words to "Kumbaya," including myself, so we passed on it. Great idea, though!

So see, "teenage girl" and "grown ass man"! You can turn things around. You just don't want to and prefer to wallow in self-pity so that strangers will feel sorry for you. Well, no offense, I can't commiserate because my family is PERFECT. My brother buys me chocolates. So there!