Shells

I almost always over react.

If someone doesn't call, or knock on my door, or text back, or write, I try to be rational, but soon I slip right back into my comfort zone -- which is to be innately uncomfortable.

I know as well as anyone who uses social media, or has friends, or is the least bit intelligent that looks are not a reliable gauge when it comes to judging people and I believe that -- except when it comes to me. I am sure that I am too tall, too fat, too plain, too uneducated, too almost anything depending on the moment.

It doesn't seem to matter how many positive experiences I have (and in this time of my life I have many every day) I tend to remember the few negative ones when trying to decide what is wrong.

And what is wrong is often only a misconception. Someone doesn't text back or call because they are very busy, or they don't answer their door because they simply aren't home. It really is possible to choose the wrong time to visit quite often. People have different internal clocks.

But somehow I have learned to blame all problems, imagined or real, on what I said, or did, or was.

I try so hard not to offend anyone that if I inadvertently do, I should be forgiven. The intent was never there. And if it happens often, then I am probably trying too hard. Life just gets too complicated. It is one of the reasons I need the truth. I can feel when it isn't the truth and that makes me doubt everything else.

For Christmas I would like Santa to bring me a harder shell and even if it doesn't work, I could hide inside of it when I needed to.