We would like to think that we enjoy being the main character of our own story. We are rational creatures who choose what values to uphold, what accomplishments to pursue, even what cravings, schedule, and friends we keep. Yet we have a secret indulgence we feed well: we enjoy being in a state of victimhood. When responsibilities are heavy, it is an attractive option to have some outside force to impose itself as an actor or an enforcer. While we can be disgusted by our own apathy, we are masters at playing the victim when it suits us. It is a skill we know well: when in difficult times we take the position of the victim and in times of experienced success we dwell in the false impression we are the final author of our fate. We lie to ourself well and therefore impede ourself from contemplating and respecting either our strengths or our vulnerabilities. When we claim we are a victim of the other, we have something to blame for our shortcomings or deficiencies, and therefore we can tell ourselves that we are not the cause of our failures, that they are not our fault; we get to deflect responsibility.