The thing with life is, it’s smart. No, brilliant. It knows when to swing a bat right at you, and right where it hurts.
People learn from their mistakes. But I’ve come to accept that I don’t. It’s not that I don’t try to, but it feels like I’m trying to prove something to myself by going back into the mistake, attempting to figure what went wrong, and ending up right where I first ‘failed’, only to start the cycle again.
Pathetic, but that’s me. Maybe it’s the OCD shit, like everything has to be in perfect order. And if everything is in perfect order, it shouldn’t fail. If it fails, then something isn’t right. So, start over. Start over until I really can’t give a rat’s ass to start over, then perhaps I will stop.