... I hate it when men yell. When they do, I completely shut down. Don't know the exact cause to this particular quirk of mine, but it's been mine for as long as I can remember. A stranger yelled at me today, and he had cause to be upset, but as a result, I'm having a difficult time functioning this afternoon (inconvenient when I have scads of homework and reading to do). Thanks, Unknowingly Insensitive Jerk. The last time this happened to me and upset me this much was about 5 years ago, and I think it gets worse as I get older.
So, if you're a man in my life and you stumble upon this post, don't ever raise your voice at me. Ever. It'll be disastrous for us both.
... I can't believe it's been 10 years. I... just... can't. I was a freshman in high school ("I said it's great/ To be/ A Patriot"). Maybe remembering that morning in Advanced English, how it felt to be an American 14-year-old living underneath that dark, black cloud that hovers after disaster, is compounding with my weird psychological reaction to men yelling to make me feel like a rabbit-hearted girl today. The weeks following 9/11/2001 bear a striking resemblance to the weeks following 4/27/2011--that same awful black cloud. That wondering what happens next, shaded by the ominous uncertain.
This is a much bleaker post than I should probably post today. Amidst the awful there's always an awful lot of good; because God is sovereign. And He is good. And I am so grateful for all of the good, and for those who fight for it, whether that's with speech, the pen, or the sword. I'll never be able to really express how grateful.
Today's just not my day.
I sure hope it's yours.
♥
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