Adaptation

The past couple of days have possibly been the worst in my short history on this planet. I think myself and everyone around me sort of withheld their fears and anxiety in the hopes that the nightmare would end on Wednesday, and when it didn’t, everything just kind of let loose. All the bad thoughts, fear and anger that was being repressed by my optimism has been unleashed on anyone within earshot, so it’s probably best I haven’t talked to that many people. I’m just clean out of optimism for the moment.

The more I think about it, the more it occurs to me that I haven’t gotten any new fears since I was very young. What I have learned is the ability to supress those fears through reason and logic. I mean, if I was terrified of getting hit by a car, I’d never cross the street, and then how would I rent DVD pornography?

(Just kidding, I usually buy it rather than rent it.)

Whew. There’s my sense of humour coming back. Slowly. Right now it’s hard to make a joke that doesn’t involve me trying to shrug off the fact that there’s a very good chance that this nightmare could never end. Well, until I’m fertilizer.

There’s that lack of optimism again. Whoops. Let’s try that again.

It’s just scar tissue. I’m a winner. I beat it.

(So why don’t I believe that?)

Mood: Worry-wort.