Immaturity

Take this account and see if it fits.

Fond of what she possesses, a little girl takes her prize into her room and sets it on a high shelf, a special spot. She loves it. And she takes it with her whenever she goes out. She tells all her friends how wonderful it is. She takes care of it, cleans it. Nothing... No thing is as special to her. It would almost appear that she worships the object, but it doesn't because she's just a little girl.

'Kay.

Then there's you. You set your prized possession on a pedestal. You bragged about it. You took care of it. Then... Oh, what happened? You dropped it. Stepped on it. No, you dug in your heel. It would appear that after everything, you've learned nothing. You have less maturity than a little girl. Isn't that sad?

But you never possessed it. It was never really yours. You loved it because it was better than anything you ever had, then you hated it once it was better than anything you could get. But you didn't own it, that's right. It owned you.

Why let it destroy you? What's the point? When did the idea of non-function become your mind-state? Responsibilities haven't left you or harmed you. Why abandon them?

She's exemplary and she doesn't even know it. You're pathetic and there are so many things you can do to change.

So... Change.