The Occasional Aberration.

I was hit today by a little psychological aberration to which I’m occasionally subjected.

Psychological aberration, JJ? You? Never. I always had you down as the very bastion of psychological stability.

Do ignore my friend. He’s one of my alter-egos, the sarcastic one. I keep telling him that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but he just can’t seem to help himself, poor thing.

So, where was I? Oh yes, the psychological aberration. It takes the form of an inner conviction that I’m worthless, inadequate, of no consequence, essentially undesirable even. There was a time when I used to believe it, but I don’t any more.

Ha!

Quiet!

Now I know it’s just a short-lived aberration and will pass off as suddenly as it came. It think it probably stems from when I was a kid, and my stepfather insisted on telling me how useless I was and how I would never amount to anything. I stopped believing him by the age of about twelve, but I think it left a minor residue which occasionally makes its presence felt.

It does have an unfortunate side effect, though. When this mood strikes me, I tend to avoid the very people with whom I would normally want to associate. I feel unworthy of them, you see; that’s the problem. Today, for example, I was walking along Mill Lane and saw that the window to Sarah’s dining room was wide open. I declined to walk past the house for fear of being noticed. Which is a bit of a shame, really, but of no lasting consequence.

And I’m fine again now, so onward into the breach.

Aren’t we humans interesting sometimes?