The Blame Game
I love being blamed for things that are out of my control. I mean, really. I may have nothing to do with whatever I am being blamed for, but I will still be blamed.
I have compiled a list of things that I remember being blamed for over the past years.
- I was blamed for an object falling and breaking in my house when I was a wee thing. We had 3 cats. They were able to reach the high places where this object was kept while I would have to climb on chairs and tables and other various counter spaces. I wasn’t even awake when the object broke, yet it was still my fault. Luckily I wasn’t grounded or lose any toys, just got a stern talking to. Which I repeated back to all three cats.
- A girl in middle school fell. According to some sources, she tripped over her own feet. Of course, being in middle school, that can be a nightmare to live down. So, she blamed me and said I tripped her. When I wasn’t even in the same recess as her… I am glad none of the teachers bought that.
- A friend was caught stealing snacks from the classroom snack stash. She blamed it on me, saying I told her to steal them. Me. The girl who always had a dollar or quarters ready to buy my fair share. The matter was taken before the principal, who in turn told my mother. Luckily, my mother stood up for me, telling my teacher and principal I had already come to my mother worrying about my friend’s stealing habits. (I had told her I wasn’t certain, but I never saw her with any money, just with a load of goodies. Since I had no real proof I never brought it up to a teacher, just my mother.)
- In high school, a friend blamed me for breaking her and her boyfriend up. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend or who he had been up until that point. After learning his identity, I had no idea who the guy even was. Turns out he didn’t even go to our school.
- I was blamed for a woman not having any money. Apparently I talked her into buying all her cars and other luxury items. If I could talk anyone into departing with their money, I would have gotten myself a lovely 10 bedroom house or something. Not some cars and other crap that I never even knew about or seen.
I wish I knew how these things form in peoples’ minds. I wish I knew why I was such an easy target to be blamed on. I guess it’s one of life’s many mysteries.
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