Why?

Why?
Why am I not an alcoholic sitting on a bar stool every night begging for a drink in a drunken stupor?
Why am I not a burned-out pot-head zoning in someone's living room whom I don't even know scraping together what I can to buy my next ounce.
Why am I not sitting on an oxygen machine while I pick a half-smoked cigarette butt out of an overfull ashtray?
Why am I not sitting in a jail cell for theft of an item that I really didn't need?
Why am I not crying in an alley about the man who refused to take me home-or did?
Why am I not regretting every single day of my life because I made some stupid split-second mistake that could have cost someone else their's?
Why?
Why was I spared?
Why is my path so different than the one I started out on?
Why does it seem that others are so comfortable staying on that path?
Why can't they see what I see?
Why do I always seem to land on my feet when my sister and brother don't?
Why?
Why am I so concerned about things that aren't eternal?
Why do I get nervous about things that don't matter?
Why am I afraid to let myself get hurt?
Why am I afraid to love anyone?