Wishful Thinking

I’m helpless and I hate it. Halfway across the continent from me, a young woman is fighting for her life. Halfway around the world, another is reeling from an awful discovery. I care very much about both of them, but there’s pretty much nothing I can do. I can’t rescue either. I can’t beat the crap out of their challenges. All I can do is cheer them on, and one of them can’t even hear me.

I fucking hate it. I’m not a take-charge kind of girl usually, but when people are hurting, I want to just stomp in and FIX IT. The more I love them the more I want to do it. And I can’t.

I can’t do anything.

And I hate it.

I hate that I feel like I have no faith in times like this. I’m not good at handing shit over to God. I can praise him all day long on good days and mean every word, but times like these…I feel so damned alone. And useless. And tongue-tied. And stupid.

This has been your helpless rant of the day, brought to you courtesy of a couple idiots who really should be smacked viciously about the head and shoulders.

I wanna go Eve on their asses. I want blood. I want vengeance.

Because I can’t fucking help, dammit.