Monday, June 21, 2010

I lost my camera. My dad bought me a new one yesterday.

It bothers me that it's practically a parallel of a kid that crashes his car and gets a new one from his parents.

Is that it? I'm not sure why I want my parents to yell at me, to refuse to buy me another. Maybe I'm just a masochist.

I hate looking at the new camera. It hate that I was careless and I let my old one out of my sight. I hate that now more than ever I seem like this irresponsible, spoiled idiot.

How can this one mistake hurt so much? Why don't I have normal regrets about normal things?

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