I like to take credit whenever pleasant things happen to me, and I like to point fingers whenever unpleasant things happen to me.
I am an achiever and a go-getter as long as the world does what I prefer, and I am oppressed and a victim as soon as the world does something I do not prefer.
It is sadly no different when I look at the physical luggage I am carrying around. This bag of bones and flesh and blood is a noble and wonderful thing if it gratifies me, and then it suddenly becomes a terrible burden if it gets in my way.
Providence has a wonderful way of calling out my hypocrisy, giving me the very things I don’t want, but yet also the very things I so desperately need, precisely for the purpose of reminding me that my head is screwed on wrong.
These foolish contradictions only occur when I place my worth in anything other than the content of my own character.
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