Self-Assessment

“You are really very hard on yourself,” she said to me.

I couldn’t deny it.

There’s really quite a lot to be hard on myself for.

I chew my nails.

(As good a place to begin as any, I suppose.)

I am often negative in my point of view.

I find contentment difficult to achieve.

I am not a model employee.

I tend to worry too much about the future.

I can be sarcastic even when I shouldn’t.

I chew my nails.

(I didn’t say that already, did I?)

I am sometimes an angry soul.

I can be jealous of the success of others.

I find it difficult to forget past resentments.

I have thrown garbage from my car window.

I have trouble controlling my emotions.

I chew my nails.

(I believe I may have mentioned it.)

I have lied, cheated, stolen.

I have treated the pursuit of self-improvement with apathy.

I sometimes talk when I should listen.

I read from websites that promote shallow celebrity gossip.

I don’t exercise nearly enough.

I chew my nails.

(Please forgive me if I repeat myself – it is but another flaw.)

I have denied mercy to the weak.

I have trampled the crops of those I have defeated and salted the earth in my wake.

I have convened shadowy cabals in dark rooms to plot the demise of those from whom I sought to steal power.

I clear cut the Amazonian forests and used the wood to roast nitrate-laden hot dogs.

I burned Chicago to the ground and framed Mother Leary for the deed.

I chew my nails.

(It’s a nasty little habit.)

I told tales of gold to Pizarro and Cortes.

I whispered in the ear of Hirohito: “To surrender would dishonor you.”

I offered advice to Kennedy: “Take the bridge. It’s much faster.”

I spoke in the ear of Hitler: “I hear France is lovely this time of year.”

I sang songs about cats to Andrew Lloyd Webber.

I chew my nails.

(I have tried to quit. It’s a losing battle.)

I killed a man in Reno just to watch him die.

I am surely the catalyst through which the destruction of mankind shall come to pass.

I stole the last bite from Karen Carpenter and fed it to Mama Cass.

I punched the Dalai Lama in the eye when he said my taste in music was gay.

I danced a jig to the tune of the murderous reels in my broken brain as those who would speak ill of me were torn limb from limb from the sheer power of my despotic will.

I chew my nails.