Blame on me

In silence, he drank three goblets of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, he staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes were still closed, his breathing heavy.

"Professor?" said the boy, his voice strained. "Can you hear me?"

He did not answer. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. His grip on the goblet was slackening; the potion was about to spill from it. The boy reached forward and grasped the crystal cup, holding it steady.

"Professor can you hear me?" he repeated loudly, his voice echoing around the cavern.

The man panted and then spoke in a voice the boy did not recognize, for he had never heard him frightened like this.

"I don't want... Don't make me..."

The boy stared into the wizened face he knew so well, at the crooked nose and half-moon spectacles, and did not know what to do.
"... don't like... want to stop...
"I don't want...Don't make me..
No...I don't want to ...I don't want to....Let me go...
Make it stop, make it stop
No, no, no, no, I can't, I can't, don't make me, I don't want to....
It's all my fault, all my fault.Please make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh please make it stop and I'll never, never again..
..Don't hurt them, don't hurt them, please, please, it's my fault, hurt me instead..
Please, please, please, no...not that, not that, I'll do anything...
..No more, please, no more...
I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!

On his knees

KILL ME
.....
Oh we few, we merry few..band of brothers- look at us now.

Look me in the eye and tell me that what I did was wrong. Go ahead; tell me. I can’t pretend that I did not know that this would happen. You wouldn’t believe me if I did.
But, then again, neither can you.

Story time.

There was once a little boy, gentlemen. And this little boy, Oh, he was so smart. My, my, what a smart little fellow he was. I’d wager that you wouldn’t have found a smarter lad even if you’d looked mighty hard; why, even if you had looked a million miles, you wouldn’t have found smarter. No. No.

And like all smart people – this little fellow needed a channel for his smartness. So he found a little wee pipe. And he began to play it. What a lovely sound that was, gentlemen!
And as he began to play it, the people began to follow him. Not because he was forcing them to, but because they were in awe of the sheer beauty of his playing.
How the people flocked to him.
The little boy was overjoyed. Look at that! They liked his music. How his cheeks glowed!
With a little skip and a little hop and a little jump, he ran down the mountainside, playing his pipe.
And all the people, gentlemen? They followed him, of course.
They crossed plains and valleys, mountains and hills and great mighty rivers.
A few of the people had difficulty crossing some of the harder obstacles.
The boy would help them when he saw that they couldn’t.
And they ran, and they ran.
And as time wore on, some of the people became tired. They wanted to stop.
But the little boy knew that they had only a little while to run, and so he ran on, relentlessly..
And they ran, and they ran.
And finally it was over, not with a bang or a shout or a clap of mighty thunder or anything like that but with a poof of apology- the little fellow had run out of breath.

And now the people started to realise how tired they were. They saw their wounds and their scars. They became angry, disgruntled, vengeful and also little ashamed of themselves.

They blamed the little boy.
They threw stones at him. They broke his pipe. They called him names.
They chased him away.

The little boy stood there and took it all.
Not a single tear, not a drop.

Then, he turned and walked away.

Analysis time, children.

Who did the following?
Were they forced to?
Was the little boy different at the end from how he was at the beginning?
Was it right, what they did to him in the end?

At every god-damned moment in your life you have a choice-the choice to say yes or to say fuck off. So, why don’t you exercise it?

Why?

I'm tired of being called names.

Sorry, blame it on me.

I am the man who used you.
I am the man who hurt you.
I am the man who started it.
The spark that burnt the forest.
The gene that mutated the species.

Sorry, blame it on me.

Because it’s easier that way.

It is so much easier to blame someone else for t=all the unhappiness that you perceive in your life.

You had the choice to walk away.

Bullshit- responsibility.
Bullshit- you’d already given your word.
Bullshit- there was nobody else.

You had the choice.

You still have the choice- to take the best from your choice or bleed with it.

I’d like every person who reads this article to take a moment and think about what’s wrong with his or her life today. Do you feel unhappy? Used? Abused? Neglected?

It’s your fault

You are the architect of your own happiness.

Choose wisely, live happy..

Adios.