Conspiracy theories

Are we the conspiracy theory generation? Is the stuff that appears to be happening all around us just as it is, or are there dark, hidden undercurrents to everything? I feel like I've been cursed with a lens that can only see drama and bad intentions and real, real evil.

I was once innocent. If you told me something, no matter how ridiculous or improbable, I would take it at face value, never sifting it to see if it actually could have happen, never noting timelines (well, actually I did note timelines, but if the timelines clashed, if your story didn't seem to work out, it didn't matter, I ignored the discrepancies).

And then she told me, he said, only Jenn would believe something ridiculous like that. She said it and I crumbled inside. First, at being so stupid. And second, at them laughing at me for being so stupid. And when I readjusted the lens, suddenly everything made sense. Looking at horrible people with the proper lens, you could see quite clearly, when they lied, why they lied, how everything was a performance, nothing was real.

It becomes difficult after a while, when you're surrounded by these liars, to know what to believe. The kindest you can be, is to to tell yourself that they don't mean to do it, they're simply lying to themselves. But the more sensible explanation would be, they're being manipulative because it is easy to manipulate you. Trusting shouldn't be blind. Not when you feel the contempt coming from the other side.

One of our dogs is missing. He ran away. Except that he doesn't run away. Not him. He pushed his way out just before a storm, another thing he doesn't do. And then he never came back. Him, who doesn't run very far. Who is too scared to go out when the sky lowers and starts to thunder.

Who did this to him? What call did he hear to force him out? Who is to blame?

We blame ourselves of course. We didn't love him enough. We didn't show him enough affection. He felt nobody wanted him. We all feel the guilt. And guilt does funny things. It makes you suspect things. It makes you create stories in your mind. It makes you look at people funny.

Under all that is the sheer heartbreak of thinking he may be somewhere, suffering, scared, lonely, in pain.

It's the uncertainty that kills you.

It's the uncertainty that always kills you.

I wish there were some way of knowing what happened.

I try to tell myself that I'm being ridiculous to suspect what I suspect.

But I still go on suspecting it.

In the meantime I won't waste my time or energy hating you. Every bit of intention is aimed at my dog. I'll go on praying for him and loving him.