If I keep repeating my mistakes, does that mean I haven’t actually learned any lessons?
Maybe the lessons I’ve learned are ones that don’t matter because that time in my life has passed. Like the one where I wasn’t truly in love when I got married—the one where I believed people who told me fairy tales and soulmates weren’t real. I learned that lesson. But it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be in that situation again.
(I love when Lucy uses The Smiths’ lyrics to communicate.)
I thought I learned my lesson involving my moods and bringing other people down. The lesson being: hide my feelings so no one will know I’m not okay, therefore, not bringing anyone down. As it turns out, I’m not a good faker, and everyone could see right through me so there was no point. I think I learned the wrong lesson.
On a lighter note, there was this one time in college when I was not in my right mind (mild substance use of the botanical variety). A friend and I got a pizza and ate the whole thing, just the two of us. Then we sent someone out to get us a dozen donuts, and we ate all of those, too. I will never be doing that again. Lesson learned. And that lesson is: next time, skip the pizza.
I need to spread my love out amongst all my men. I think some of them were feeling neglected. Lesson learned.
p.s. — Also, never, under any circumstances, even if you are in college like I was, do ten tequila shots in one night. To this day, I can’t go near the stuff. Just the smell makes me queasy. Definintely learned my lesson on that one.