Ever wish you had a do-over button? Oops. Did those words actually fly from the dark ratty crevasse of my soul out into the light of day?
I’m not talking about those sharp-edged, curved blades of anger thrown at loved ones in the heat of an argument over who ate the last fudge bar.
No. I’m talking about re-writing personal history. See, I think, at least in my case, I actually have a do-over button. It’s limited in scope and power, I’ll give you that. But, evidently, when I say or do something that I know perfectly well is wrong, I simply edit the behavior and repeat the story, as soon as possible, to someone else.
Let me give you a quick example.
The other day I made a comment to an acquaintance about one of my closest friends. It wasn’t a mean comment, but I phrased it…
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