I don’t know if it’s because I’m hookup, or because I’m a horrible person, but I have a lot of guilt. Most of my guilt comes from the way I feel towards my family. All of those times during my teenage years of never calling my parents and never answering the phone are slowly creeping back to me. I feel guilty that I wasted so much of their money in college. I feel guilty that I’m still not married. I feel guilty that whenever I call them, it’s usually because I need something, and when I call them just to say ‘hi’, it always seems somewhat forced. I feel guilty about that dream I had two nights ago when I forgot to pay them back for the spaceship they lent me money for, so that I could stop global warming and so that the cold-blooded mermaid aliens could visit in order to cure cancer.

My guilt isn’t concentrated only on family, though family is the source. It permeates every aspect of my life. I feel guilty whenever I don’t use a turn signal to change lanes, even though I am the worst, angriest driver of all time. On the rare occasion that I do neglect my turn signal while changing lanes, I have to wave frantically to the car behind me until they see and acknowledge me. If they don’t, I have to change lanes again, drive beside them, honk my horn, turn my head toward them, smile, and give them a ‘thumbs up’. This usually does not produce the positive reaction I hope for. However, at least I can take comfort in the knowledge that not using my turn signal was not the worst mistake I made in this series of events.

At Subway®, I have to make conversation with the Sandwich Artist who I see literally every day, or else I feel like a terrible person. This is despite the fact that this poor woman is so tired of seeing me, and just wants to make my sandwich as quickly as possible so that I can leave. Once I leave and forget to use a turn signal, I have to go through the whole process of making the car recognize that I didn’t mean to make that mistake. Then I have to go back to Subway® because I forgot my drink. It’s a vicious cycle.

Finally, guilt has spread to my personal life. I am always super early to everything because I feel like I’m letting somebody down when I’m late, even though there’s probably always someone counting on me to not show up at all. I am super obsessive about my hygiene. I don’t want anyone to have a bad time whenever they hang out with me because all they can smell is rotting fish, Subway® sandwiches, and smoking brake pads from all of the times I have to brake hard in order to let another driver know that I’m sorry for not using my turn signal.

On dates, my guilt is in full effect. I feel guilty for wasting this poor woman’s Saturday night. I feel guilty that I didn’t stand up when she left the table to use the restroom. I feel guilty that my hairline is receding. I feel guilty that in case this relationship eventually goes anywhere, I have still yet to get my body waxed.

I have lived my entire adult life under the auspices that everyone I know (and don’t know) feels that I owe them something.  This started, as stated, around the time I was eighteen.  I did not feel psychologically ready for college, though I knew it was the expectations of many for me to attend.  Though I know now it would have been beneficial for everyone involved if I didn’t go straight to college, I feel that that is where the majority of my guilt originates.  My parents were putting a lot of money and expectations on the premise that I would go to college and do well in every aspect.  ‘Every aspect’ basically means that I would have a wife and child by the time I was/am 27.

My road toward marriage-hood, fatherhood, and the absence of both hit its first barricade before my first day of classes.  I had a nervous breakdown in the hallway of Dobie.  Dobie was the dorm where my parents first met.  My first dorm room in Dobie was in the same suite as my mom’s dorm during her freshman yeah.  Dobie is also an overpriced prison that thrives on providing facilities that promote social ineptness as well as athletic prowess (to get to the lobby, you have to walk up 45 steps.  If you live on floors two through four, you are expected to take the stairs up again, in order to decongest the elevators.)

So while I was struggling through my first year of school, my parents were not only paying for my tuition, schoolbooks, room & board, and my meal plan, they were also giving me plenty of spending money.  I felt immensely guilty that they were paying for this, but at the same time I never thanked them.  I just blindly went forward.  I think because of this guilt, I was very prone to apologizing to everybody (but my parents) that I was around.  For example, I would repeatedly say “I’m sorry” to a friend who treated me to dinner on my birthday, while Mom and Dad got nothing.

My apologizing got so out of control, I got a small tattoo on the top of my arm that said “I’m sorry.”  It was partly a joke and partly a plea to the tattoo gods to get me to stop apologizing.  Though I still feel enormously guilty because of what my parents have done (or given) to me, I don’t overuse the ‘I’m sorry’ to friends and everyone else in my life; but the tattoo remains.  Tattoos are permanent.  Nobody tells you that when the artists are giving it to you; yet they seem like such trustworthy people.