Superstition
When I walked out the house it was raining. I ran back in and got my umbrella and tripped up as I ran up the stairs. I was late. This isn’t exactly unusual, lateness and me are things that quite commonly spend time together, especially when it’s important that I’m on time. It was a sign, the torrential rain, the lateness, the tripping up. Seperately they’re pretty much mundane stuff, but together they were a bad sign. I can’t help it, I’m cynical of anything religious, political, or even vaguely related to the way people react to things. But I’m superstitious, I’m not sure whether it’s a contradiction, but I can’t help it. I won’t put an umbrella up in the house, and I read tarot cards. Worse, I listen to people who claim to be psychic, whatever they say. Even when they say the world is going to end, though I’ve gotta say that I do take those people with a pinch of salt and will look out for any other signs of madness that they might be exhibiting.
So if I see something that appears to be a sign… I worry. But it was ok, I didn’t need to worry. I had fun, and he was so nice. He treated me well, he had a nice smile, he was sooo nice!!!!!!!!!!! And I hate nice. I’ll take dangerous, or wild any day, cocky, even a total shit head. So I know I’m screwed up. And I’m wasting my time thinking about signs.
I’ve been wasting so much time lately. With the tarot cards that tell me stuff that I already know, or tell me that I’ll eventually manage to lose the unlucky-in-love thing I’ve got going on. But I don’t know… Before I left I checked my tarot cards and they told me absolutely nothing. Then I went out and I had fun. It was good, he was nice, we did the ritual and yeah, I didn’t hate it. But that isn’t what I want.
Labels: Being the Duck, Courting, Superstition
