There was a time in my youth when I was hyper-sensitive. If anyone criticized me, I took it personally, cried rivers of tears; my ego crushed. My whole life, I've battled depression and low self-esteem.
It's been brought to my attention that some of my blogs have crossed the line of ethics, decency and good taste. Publishing those stories - without considering anyone else's feelings first - showed a depraved indifference to the feelings of others.
Sometimes it takes getting hit (virtually) over the head for me to realize how serious my transgressions were.
When I realized how heinous my actions were, I found myself transported back to the principal's office, feeling about one inch tall. It called to mind the old children's song:
Nobody loves me, everybody hates me; I'm gonna at some worms.
Big fat juicy ones, squish squash squishey ones,* sitting in the garden eating worms.
* There are several versions of the lyrics on the web.
I am sorry; mea culpa. I love you, and hope that, in time, you can forgive me.
Whenever I do something bad, or say something so far out of left field, that rends the fabric of our relationship, I retreat to my bed for days, thinking about how and if I should kill myself. Of course I won't do it, but I am not a worthwhile person who deserves to be loved. How could I have been so callous? How can I ever make it up to you?
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