Driving through a housing area with Chance the Rapperís new album playing, my friend and I stop in front of a medium-sized, one story house with a short, white gate and a one car garage. We call our friendís cell and, without having to say anything, he responds:

“I’ll be out.”

Less than a minute later, he swings open the door and puts his shoes on. We typically go inside his house when we hang out with him, but this time is different.

He doesnít invite us in. When we push the issue, he reacts in anger.

“No! The answer is no; you guys are not coming in. You know why.”

We both knew why, but we just played dumb and defensive for a bit.

“Why, dude, what happened man?” I said. “We always come to your house.”

I wasn’t sure if he knew I was joking but he answered my question with a tone even more aggressive than before.

“Bro, you guys. Both of you, I know for a fact at least you two, while I was in L.A., broke into my house.”

I was very surprised because he was right; both of us carried out the plan the night he left. I couldnít believe how accurate his instincts were because neither of us left any sign that could be used as hard evidence to determine exactly who did it.

He continued to explain his logic after I asked why he was purposely targeting the both of us, some of his best friends. I wasnít wrong because we were very close friends, although we do occasionally pull stunts like breaking into each otherís houses.

“Every time something goes down with my house, it’s always you two,” he said. “Like the knocking on my windows, taking my hummus and the time you guys brought, like, everybody over when I said you guys can’t come in.”

I understood where he was coming from, and the fact that he took me seriously only tempted me to keep up the act even longer – even though I knew there was no way to go around it.

“You broke into my house. You’re banned,” he said.

“You left the screen door unlocked,” I replied.

I knew he was already very frustrated at this point, but that only made me want to keep push him even more. The other friend in the car played along as well.

The exchanges continued for a couple more minutes without any progress, and I realized how lame we were, putting this much effort into denying it when we all knew that he knew it was us for sure.

I could feel myself being extremely annoying at this moment, but it wasn’t like we had any other plans for now. Eventually, he became too angry to rebut with logic and, instead, unleashed a torrent of insults ranging from how I act spoiled and ungrateful, to how disrespectful and materialistic I am.

Unfortunately, without a doubt, he was right. I was furious at first, but after thinking and trying to deny some more, I realized how sad but true all of his statements were. These self doubts were reasonable – in fact, everybody should think about how flawed they can be every now and then. I was so numb to repercussions that I didn’t consider how breaking into this guyís house would affect him and his situation with his parents.

The haunting guilt made me not able to forgive myself for the burden I was, so I decided that I can’t keep being so mindless with my actions. Realizing all these things about myself surely made me less narcissistic because I didnít want to cause this much damage and put myself or others at such high risk again.

I realized I should never feel that blind admiration for myself again because it only put me on a path of destruction and douchebaggery. There isn’t a way to un-break into his house, nor is there any way for me to apologize to everybody else Iíve ticked off with my antics. That phrase, “stop and smell the roses,” – this is the exact opposite, Stop and smell the sh– on your front porch. Instead of being optimistic and appreciating the small moments in life, try to be a pessimist and critic when you make mistakes, so you can correct the behavior in the future.