"It's not me," I keep telling myself. But no matter how many times I repeat the mantra, I remain convinced that it is me after all, no matter how bald the protestations to the contrary. What's worse, this conviction insidiously works its way into the part of my mind that prevents me from doing dumb things, restraining my powers of restraint. Soon I'm trying to intervene in the situation, even though I still recognize that intervention may well be the least desirable course of action. Then, when my gesture of engagement is ignored or repudiated, I become indignant over the fact that my efforts go unappreciated. Finally, I end up back where I started, only with a twist. Now I insist out loud that, "It's not me," even as it dawns on me that it is. The best part is that this conviction, initially false in the majority of cases, now turns out to be correct. In the end, I've managed to turn falsehood into truth by becoming the bad guy I'd imagined myself accused of being.