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May 17, 2007
They tell me there is a reason I am the way I am.

They just haven’t found out what that reason is.

They theorize it was an unhappy childhood.

Not enough hugs. Mommy never smiled. Daddy was too busy.

All the usual psychological mush they spoon-feed first time patients.

“I’m fucked up,” I wanted to scream. “Don’t blame them for it. They are the only right thing about me.”

I wish it were so simple, that I could put all my problems on someone else.

Taking credit for myself is more difficult than playing “Pin the Blame on the Parent.”