cowering from evil lint balls

There are times in which I am perfectly aware that my reaction to a series of circumstances is completely out of proportion to the situation at hand. My mind, you see, is very analytical. Unfortunately, the violent passions are just as strong with me, though I often hide them behind facts, figures, busyness or jocularity. Why am I so willing to listen to the self-defeating voice? Why do I allow myself to get caught in the trap of logically knowing something is affecting me more than it should, but since it is bothering me anyway, thinking I must really be screwed up?

I ask this on a day when I am not feeling strongly in that direction. If my feelings were that raw today, I wouldn't dare ask the question. My goodness, when I get like that, the mere fact that someone neglected to say, "Hi," might set me off on a five hour self-search to identify what horrible thing I did to offend them. I can entertain so many possibilities.

I will analyze everything I say and do - understand that many of the things I say in an effort to relate end up turning a conversation back to myself - end up making me sound selfish. Is that what I have done? That's not what I mean. I know that many times when you present something, I will talk it through from several other points of view. It's who I am. But, in so doing, am I making you feel that I think you are wrong? That's not what I mean. Many times I respond with sarcasm that is oozing with affection. Am I conveying the affection? Is it coming out meaner than I ever intended? That's not what I mean. Am I shooting barbs at you with my words when I simply want to touch souls? That's not what I mean. Did I unintentionally strike out toward you because I was frustrated or busy or hurt? That's not what I mean.

But why am I always so ready to believe that something must be wrong with me? And why was yesterday one of those days?

and why am I so good at hiding it?