10. whiny doubt

Some days, I’m sure I’ve done the wrong thing. No, everything is a sightless, selfish, blunder.

“It isn’t fair because I think so hard.” The homeless, unloved, orphan moans from within.

I ponder until my brain is squeezed so tight it aches. I weigh options until it all scales the same. With so much thought and good intention, you’d think I’d get it precise. With so much philosophy, why can’t I change the world to my right?

“Don’t I deserve something for being good?” Her puppy eyes beseech me, her begging hand laid out confidently who, sensing my weakness for her, is sure I won’t shuffle away.

Something always haunts, doesn’t work, can’t be controlled. My expectation is too plain and too exact.

“You think you’re going to do something different, but it’s really all the same.” The panhandler needles me as I turn my back.  There is no help in coddling her.

It is her whiny doubt that always stays the same.

C) Marika Reinke – Adventures in Art with Heart, Humor and Spirit.

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