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Finding comfort in the illogical

My toxic trait is that I want everything to have an explanation. Well that, and eating in bed. I know. I know. But maybe writing that will make me stop doing it?

Also, did I say “want” everything to have an explanation? I meant “need”. I need everything to have an explanation.

It helps me feel calm to know there is a reason even if I don’t agree with the reason. It helps me empathize, humanize and relate to others. But here’s the thing, plenty of actions has no logic behind them. Plenty of people do things, believe things, and don’t believe things based on nothing. Sometimes that action is minor, and sometimes it’s destructive.

But I can’t pause life like it’s a video game while I sit in silence and try to assign a reason to someone else’s actions. Some reason that will help me feel like “I figured it out. I can move on now.”

But I haven’t figured it out. I can’t. The “reasons” I find are just projected emotions that I’m applying to someone else’s life. The world keeps going, it doesn’t stop while I try to find the logic that will help me feel comfortable about everyone’s motives. The world doesn’t care about my comfort level. It keeps going. It’s tremendous and beautiful and constant, in that way. It will keep moving, and so should I.

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