Read Between the Lines

Thurs, Jan. 8

... Cried a river and drowned the whole world

I hate knowing that bad news is coming, because I never know how bad it is, and my over-active imagination always makes it seem worse than it really is.

And then I stress and obsess over it, and half the time, it's not as life-threatening as I imagined it to be anyways. And when it is, I'm already three stages into the panic process, because I've gone through all the worst-case scenarios in my mind.

People should never tell me, "We'll talk about it later." Those words never bode well. Especially when they're preceded by the question, "Is everything okay?" and the answer to that is no.

So I try to forget about it, and hope for the best, especially when I don't know all the facts. That just leads to so much more speculation. And while I'm not about to share my speculations with anyone and turn them into gossip, it's just too much for my little brain to take. Try not to worry for the next... 4? 5? 7? hours, and everything will take care of itself. And try to keep from thinking too much until there's someone I can talk to that won't make it gossip. And until I get some facts. Because right now, I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing. Well... maybe 5% of what would make actual fact. Gah.

One year ago today: I don't have the answers--any of them, let alone all of them--but sometimes I wonder why we talk about and marvel at the declining morality among Christians when we're so casual about things like this. Maybe there's a correlation? I don't know. Maybe it really is no big deal, but it just seems to me to be something bigger than we give it credit for.
infinite || abyss

posted at 3:07 p.m.

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