Someone once told me I am really ungrateful. I take that back, someone told me many times I am still ungrateful. That sucks. At first, that stings and makes me mad. Then, it starts to make me think.
Yeah, I am ungrateful. So ungrateful, that I'm pretty sure I deserve nothing I have. At what point to you separate truth from a continually depressing statement? The run so close together, I sometimes can't see that faint grey line.
It is hard to make myself remember how ungrateful I am. It brings me down...makes life depressing. It's really not anything I want to think about for too long. It steals my joy. Just what it is supposed to do, I guess.