Failure

There are certain situations in which I am supposed to be an "enforcer" - impartial and objective, like Ted the Bellhop wielding the cleaver in the last segment of Four Rooms. But tonight I couldn't do it. After the Cristal, and the Benjamins, and the persuasive patter of Quentin Tarantino, I turned to see that the guy with his hand on the chopping block was a friend of mine, and I couldn't do it. In the end, I had to hand the cleaver over to someone else.

I feel like I've let my friends down by not being able to do the job I was called to do; and I feel like I've betrayed my other friend by handing the cleaver to someone who will wield it, instead of just winking at the rules and letting him keep his little finger, whether he upholds his end of the bargain or not - because he's my friend, and friends are supposed to look out for each other, aren't they?

I'm hating myself right now. There are times when "doing the right thing" just sucks, and this is one of those times. And when I say I did the right thing, it's not from any kind of smug, satisfied self-righteousness - I only believe what I did was the right thing because that's what people keep telling me, people whose opinions I trust. I don't feel like I did the right thing at all. I feel like a failure, and a back-stabber. And a joke.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...