A really sad realization came to me recently; I discovered that somewhere along the road, I started worshipping the worst case scenario.  I assumed that if I set really low expectations of everything, life would magically turn into a bundle of surprises. That is not true.

The truth, at least for me, is that I tend to think there is nothing much that I can do about a situation because I always rationalized that the worse was going to happen anyway.  And because I didn’t do much about it, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. The sad thing is, there is no glory in feeling vindicated in this instance. I talked proudly about leading a reclusive life, and when my friends left me as I speculated, there was no triumph ahead, just a long walk of shame. I still get surprised by how right I am sometimes, but in a way you get surprised when there is a funny taste around your lips after your dog licks you, like, has he been licking his manly bits?

I don’t know how the hell the topic suddenly changed to pet genitalia…. but anyway, I want to embrace change, I want to actively do things that will make my life better, happier. I want to throw away all those pesky doomsday predictions I have stuck in my head; I want to start believing that I have control over my own destiny; that I can be a successful writer, a champion candy crusher, a man-eater.

I want to start believing again that I can be bulletproof.

(picture taken from:


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