i've been so preoccupied with wallowing in my man-made lake of self-pity. wondering how things would be if this hadn't happened... or if that had been done differently. i hate that for days now, i've had the same conversation with myself, over and over. it always comes back to me reminding myself that no matter how much i worry, at the end of the day - the results are going to be the same. d. recently recited one of my favorites, "worrying is like rocking in a rocking chair. it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere." as true as that is, i think this is one of those situations where worrying isn't an choice, it's a necessity.
if i've done something wrong and i comprehend the magnitude of my carelessness... and knowing i'm going to be punished for it, i will step up and suffer the consequences of my actions with no complaints. however, i feel like despite how far out of my control this is... that you have to keep pitching in, even if it means finding help elsewhere. maybe in God, or maybe in unused wishes. perhaps "superstitious" was the right word. there are parts of me that thinks maybe if i worry enough... or feel genuinely remorseful enough... that we will get the answers we're hoping for.
i know it sounds childish, and i know that at the end of the day, it's what's in my blood that makes a difference... but when everything else is gone, what else is left to do but hope...?
"i have learned two lessons in my life: first,
there are no sufficient literary, psychological,
or historical answers to human tragedy, only
moral ones. second, just as despair can come
to one another only from other human beings,
hope, too, can be given to one only by other
human beings." -- elie wiesel.
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