At times – I think that it’d be fair to say – I harbour a tendency to overthink things. To look for meaning when perhaps none is there. To grasp at the straws of linear causality in a desperate attempt to clarify the opaque correlations that I have become so hell-bent on establishing.
I am aware of this; I am, however, also aware that in a broader context, this penchant for convolution is by no means the most debilitating or toxic of afflictions. Indeed, it barely registers stock on an index of myriad other – and dare I say immeasurably more damaging – flaws whose share prices constantly jostle for position as a reminder to me daily of the fragility and value of my own self-worth. I charitably, if somewhat optimistically, indulge to label these weaknesses as ‘idiosyncrasies’. Charity, after-all, begins at home. Or so I’m told.
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