I have no idea what I'm doing...

The art of fucking up

I am very skilled,
In the art,
Of fucking up.

Yes,
I think,
This is the only subject,
I can really get a degree in.

I’ll say things,
That come out wrong,
And people will look at me,
Like I’m an alien,
And then I start explaining,
Which only makes it worse.

I’ll mess up,
An entire schedule,
Because I forget about it,
And plan two things in,
At the same time.

Laundry,
I am oblivious to it,
For a week,
And then complain,
About the amount,
That has piled up.

I can make,
A computer crash,
With the touch,
Of a button,
And I talk,
Unkind words to my phone,
Because it’s not doing,
What I want,
Meanwhile I did it wrong,
And it’s not the phone’s fault.

On top of that,
I’ll get offended,
By something someone says,
And later,
It turns out,
That it was meant,
As a compliment.

If this doesn’t convince you,
I miscount my money,
Yes,
I’m that person,
At the register,
That is giving stuff back,
Because I don’t have enough money,
While I thought I did.
I’m not doing it on purpose,
I mismatch my underwear,
And even my socks,
Totally unaware,
That I have a doctor’s appointment,
And only realize it,
When I see,
The doctor’s eyebrows go up.

But if I’m truly honest,
I don’t see it,
As a weakness.

It makes life,
More interesting,
Exciting,
And fun.

Because,
Let’s face it,
How many people,
Really fuck up,
And can be proud of it?

I see it as a gift,
And I hope,
This blog,
Hands that same gift to you,
And makes you smile,
The next time,
You fuck up.

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