a title that is in all lower case

People everywhere have strange habits.
A lot of times those habits tend to inflict a minor amount of damage on the person but typically that damage is counter-balanced by some new skill, growth, or achievement.
Take coffee for instance.
It's moderately good for you where nutrition is concerned but the sheer quantity by which some people choose to saturate their minutes, hours, days and lives is enough to be considered dangerous no matter what the substance.
And yet the invigoration of caffeine combined with the social culture built around obtaining coffee (going to cafes, supporting local roasteries, feeding the limp and pallid economy) is enough to balance out what little harm an overdose of java might inflict.
The basis of justification is in the even trade off.
However, when that trade is at an imbalance in favor of the self-damaging side of things the habit poses a large threat to the person's well-being. It can do little more ultimately cripple and challenge them by means of an overdose of self-medication.

My job rides on just such an imbalance.
I feed into people's abuse of alcohol and profit from their selfishness, stupidity and baseness.
No, no, no, not everybody's abuse, only some are abusers. But it's the abusers that cause me to pause and reflect on the morality of the situation.
When it comes to people who are crippled by their bad habit I blind myself to the eventual negative energy and anti-production that my provision of alcohol will ensure.

Or should I say I used to blind myself.

I believe I've come to a crux.
I've reached an important juncture in my travels through the jungles of philosophy in my own developing and still-learning mind. I've come to better understand my misplacement of misanthropy on many by locating the few who really deserve. The frustrating part is realizing that I've been playing a vital role in what makes them so deplorable to me.
It's completely Utopian...the book, not the concept.

It's as if I make drunks and then punish them.

Hmmm...This thought alone brings me to a place where I just have to stop and consider all that I've made out to be so worthy of my disdain and if it's only because it somehow relates back to me.

Am I saying I hate myself?
No, I doubt it. (I'm too much of a narcissist to actually hate myself.)

I believe I am a perfectionist.
I hate when I see people behaving similarly to the way I behave because I want that behavior to be just right and if it isn't then it's a poor reflection back on me (since we're ostensibly of the same personality/character). In other words, I don't like people who are like me because I think they're going to screw it up.

Wow.
Do I have a big head or what?

Seriously, I'm curious now.
'Cause now I'm going to hate people with big heads even more.

I'll find some reason they're not doing it right.