Just when I thought I couldn’t reach any new levels of pathetic, I went ahead and broke my ankle.
And just when I thought I couldn’t reach any lower level of hygiene, I went ahead and broke my ankle.

I thought a lot of things about myself, and many of these changed with a simple pop and an ensuing crack, followed by a blaring use of the word ‘fuck’ and a foot-dangling ride to the hospital. With a lot of morphine, a bit of Senokot-S, some serious moping, and some quality on-my-ass time, I learned that you never know how pathetic you can get, because there is always a place that is even more pathetic than where you are. If that is not positivity, then I obviously don’t know what is. I can’t wait to find out what is next.

Now I sport a leg akin to that of RoboCop and I still complain, mostly to myself in my head, but sometimes to others via my sour demeanour and disdain for my situation. Trying to think of things to be productive, I remembered an article my dad sent to me a while back, likely hoping for another father-titled blog post, or maybe just to make me feel better about my poverty. But it highlights another human fault, besides weak ankles and negative attitudes. Greed and discontentedness. People in their wealth often don’t appreciate what they’ve got because they aren’t smart enough to notice it. Wealth is a state of mind, it says. I am the example of the opposite—that people in their most lamentable, embarrassing, useless and detestable state, still can’t appreciate what they’ve got. Because I’ve been stowed up in my off-smelling bedroom for a week and I am still sitting here feeling sorry for myself like a child. Pathetic is a state of mind, I say.

The subtitle to this defect and to this post: The pains of being spoiled.