Why I can’t have nice things 

Because I don’t deserve them. At least that’s what my demons say. And a lot of times, I believe them. 

A week after I moved into my new place, I grazed the telephone pole next to my driveway and screwed up the bumper of my otherwise great condition 2015 Jetta. 

I got a one year old used couch a few months ago. The other night I leaned over the back of it to reach something and the frame snapped. 

In less than a month from adopting my second dog, I let her out without a leash (she was always great about it up to that point), she got hit by a car. Luckily she had only abrasions, but I learned my lesson. She will always be scarred.

My other dog is a stubborn pain in the ass and does whatever he wants no matter how much I correct him, and marks his territory. So my bed smells slightly of pee. Yay. 

I had a nice tv, a candle nearby melted part of the frame. 

I’m sure I could list all of the nice things I’ve had that have been ruined, but that’s not the point. The point is that I can’t have nice things. The demons say I don’t deserve them. But it might be for a different reason. I’m not stupid by any means, but I tend to make poor judgments, even if they seem sound at the time. And looking back on all these examples, the reason for my suffering is my own poor decisions. The best that can happen is that I learn from them. But I wish I could just stop making poor decisions in the first place. Maybe then I can have nice things. 

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