Imaginary reader, tell me this.

Are you a good person?

Think about it for a bit. Imagine that Jesus or God or whatever you believe in was looking at everything you’ve done in your life, and imagine what their reaction would be. What would they think?

I know how they’d react looking at my record. Two words: Lost Cause.

It’s not that I don’t try to be a good person, because I do try. It’s a good feeling, when you do something that makes others smile. Especially when you’re sad all the time, like me. It gives you some feeling of purpose to your otherwise empty life.

The only thing is, with me, everything I do comes back and hits me in the face. You ever hear that expression, No good deed goes unpunished? Yeah, well, some ass has probably been doing a whole lotta good deeds and put me as the return address. And thanks to my brain, that is an actual possibility for me.

I think too much.

But yes, I try to be a good person, but sometimes it’s just too hard. Because some people expect too much. And some people use yelling and screaming as their method to demand too much.
Take this scenario for example; I am cleaning my room, listening to music as I work, (GOOD music, FYI, with actual talent involved) when all of a sudden, my mother charges in. And I get to hear her screech about all the things I have not yet done.

Here’s the list of complaints, sans the screechy mother-from-hell voice.

-I have not vacuumed my room; as the vacuum is still being used by my brother to do god knows what.
-I have not picked up a pillow on the floor, which renders her completely unable to walk in this ‘hellhole’.
-My dressing gown is on my box, instead of my already loaded coat hanger.
-There are things under my bed. Things that NEED to go under there so I can walk through my room.
-My desk is too cluttered.
-I read too much. I must stop reading. The less I read, the more time I’ll have to place that pillow on my bed; which is not needed.

And finally….

-I have too much crap in my room. Which is becoming more of a storage space for all the crap my mother buys-often without asking. It is entirely my fault a place cannot be found for said crap, and I am the spawn of Satan for being unable to organise it in a matter that satisfies my mother.

It’s not the complaining that bothers me, it’s the screaming. Every time I have to put up with her yelling, I end up with a headache. Which makes me go to my room. Which makes me black out and fall into Delirium, where there is, you guessed it Imaginary Reader!, more yelling and screaming.

As opposed to Reality though, Delirium has people yelling and screaming about things that matter. What these matters are, I’ll save for a time where I’m feeling even more upset and vulnerable, and I have an uncontrollable urge to spill my secrets. It’s almost funny, how Delirium is the world which makes more sense to me; for all it’s secrets and mysteries behind it, the ones there are far easier to understand than the world where people screech about cleaning and other things that barely matter.

I have gotten off track. My point is that I am a horrible person. I’m working on it, but I’m not getting very far. And I have no idea how people stand me. My friends are wonderful people, and I find myself wondering why they allow me to hang out with them; for all my faults, for every time that I’ve gone all Delusional on them, they still care about me.

And that’s what inspires me to be a better person. If they can stand a psychotic, delusional bitch like me, I can at least try to be the best person I can be.

Though I probably will never remember to put that stupid pillow on my bed.

To sum it up; yes, there are good and bad people in this world. But no one is purely good or bad; people can do bad things with good intentions, just like good people can have selfish motivations for doing something seemingly unselfish.

Also, what even is a good person? Because there are so many ways a person can be flawed, so there’s no way someone can be perfect. But what makes someone a good person? How many flaws are they allowed to have? Answer below, nonexistent reader, in the comments.

Back to my role as the spawn of Satan.
Also, my grandparents will be here soon. Eeeeeek! O_O
Yours truly,

Cat Madigan