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I have a tendency to screw up. Apparently, as humans, we are inclined to screw up to the point where the term “I'm human.” is descriptive when someone is trying to say “I will not be perfect.” Keeping in mind the fact that humans will fail, I happen to be good at it apparently. I say things that really shouldn't be said. I do things that really shouldn't be done. Each time, when the gravity of the situation sets in, I get into this mode where I hate myself. As bad and depressed as I feel, I find it to be constructive; those feelings of hatred of the way that I am inspires me to correct myself in the same way that feelings of pain might inspire someone to move their hand after it has been set upon something hot. As I try to correct myself, I examine why it is that I want to change my behaviour. What is it that makes me want to change? Could it be that there's something inside of me that knows the difference between good and bad, proper conduct and stupidity, a gentleman and a fool? I think that there is. Why can't that gentleman living inside of me make an appearance? I would rather like it if people saw the gentleman in me rather than the fool.

However, I can't blame them; all that they see is the fool.