(This entry is written, for the most part, in the third person, to better convey my mental tortures and instabilities. So all the �you�s are me.)
Angst
Emotional
Angst
Yep. I am just a bubbling, brimming pot of emotional angst.
She was right. You know it. She knows it. You just try to deny it. That�s why it makes you so nervous. That�s why you keep wringing your hands. That�s why you are practically chewing your lip off. That�s why you keep focusing out and losing touch with the rest of reality, just to swarm and fall in the thoughts. If it was really no worry, you might handle it better. You know you�d still like to say that it�s no big deal. But that would be incorrect. If it were an exam, you�d flunk it.
She implored you once. Implore yourself. Listen to yourself. Listen to what you keep saying. Listen to what you keep feeling.
But you won�t. You keep plugging your ears and blocking everything out. You don�t want to face them. If you truly listened, you couldn�t stay in denial. You know that. And you don�t think you could handle it. You don�t know how to handle it. Its just not fathomable.
But at least there is some you can admit to. That it�s a very fine line to walk. It�s dangerous ground to tread. At least you will face that. Barely.
It�s just such a difficult subject to broach. One you won�t. You dare not.
Because you think it�s not that important. At least, you like to pretend it isn�t. She would disagree though. She would say it is. Especially with the way you keep reacting.
If it�s not that important, quit it.
Not that easy eh? Then what?
Give it to God, darling. Give it to God, and leave it with Him, and the problem will right itself.
�Would there be tears in your eyes?.... Would you feel that ache in your heart if it were Him?