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Assumptions. The character defect that I’ve been failing to acknowledge for years is the one I never noticed. That’s because I wear it like a second skin. Jumping to conclusions. Finishing other people’s sentences. Wrongly.

Step 4: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

Everything’s going to turn out bad. Whatever’s coming down the road, it will be breathing fire and laying waste to my serenity. It’s a mindset that I drag with me throughout the entire day. Of course this person’s going to dig through the bottom of their purse for exact change. Why should anyone, ever, hold a door open? Waiting your turn has gone bye-bye in a world full of mouth-breathers who move to their final destination completely oblivious of their surroundings.

And it’s not just the complete absence of social courtesies that rile me up; it’s also the socioeconomic judgements that get handed down every time I attempt to shop at Walmart. Number of children versus perceived household income ratios really burn my cheese. Watching the entire illiterate brood pile into their Cadillac Escalade only fills me with my favorite emotion: righteous anger.

Seems my assumptions are constantly shedding new light on things which justifiy my hate. Back in the day, these assumptions weren’t so much excuses for drinking morning, noon and night as they were truths of which I could not escape. Stupidity and selfishness encroached me from all sides. Why should they get the sober me? They don’t deserve me at my best. And if they are to continue walking around with their heads up their asses, then I’ll need to engage certain drinking actions to ensure my ability to muddle through this stinky pool of mediocrity.

What makes my assumptions so dangerous is that they have become ingrained in my diseased thinking. I’m too close to the action. What’s required is questioning what I used to take for granted.

For today: Be aware. Be very aware.

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