I feel guilt for practically everything in my life. What I do, what I don’t do, things that happen to me that I can’t control but somehow feel that I should have predicted and prepared for. My guilt is a large part of the reason I gave up on religion–I didn’t need another reason to feel guilty.
I could be so much more, I think. I could be helping people. I could be learning new things. I could be making more money. I could master piano, drawing, writing.
I should have prepared for the fire, I think. I should have put important things in a safe place. I shouldn’t have borrowed things from friends, and I shouldn’t have been so selfish as to take heirloom furniture with me to Georgia.
I’m lazy and disorganized, I think, and I hate myself for it. Everyone else is doing so much more than me. I can’t accomplish anything. But I should be. With my talents, I should be doing something. So why aren’t I?