Bitter

Disappointment. It's bitter.
Worse for me is a sort of disappointment that occurs in retrospect, with new information, when it affects someone else as well, andtthough I can't be blamed it's all my fault.

For instance-- Once when I was little, my mother picked me up from school, and on the way homeI realized I'd forgotten my Spelling workbook, which I needed that night. After turning around, getting the book, and ehading back to my mother's work as we had been before, my mother informed me that her friend had brought her toddler (I've always loved young children) whom I hadn't seen in a long time and wanted dearly to see.She told me that her friend had brought her child so that I could see him again, and that she would probably be gone by the time I got there-- all because I'd forgotten my book.
Now, it wasn't, strictly speaking, my fault that I'd forgotten in the first place. I could've been more conscientious in packing my bookbag, but other than that there was no real fault. I didn't know until it was too late that I had ruined the surprise for both myself and my mother's friend. I could do nothing to fix it.

There are other, more recent examples I could cite, but in all truth I don't feel like it. It's just that crushing sense of disappointment that comes not from losing or not getting something you were looking forward to, but realizing that your actions caused you not to get something that you would have loved and, further still, that you disappointed the person who was trying to facilitate you getting whatever it was. And you didn't even know you were ruining something. You had no way of knowing.

I drive myself a little closer to the edge each day, I suppose. Insanity is a staple item in my mental pantry. As basic as flour in a baker's cupboard. Now, I'm not quite sure what's going on with me. I don't know if I like it. I know I'm tired of changing, and I'm ready to be happy.