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Being in the know.

It is unwise for me to do some of things I do. Like in the past, to stare at a tiny, unfriended picture of a William and Mary student on facebook, with hate and jealousy. Or click on an ex-boyfriend's link in his journal when I know it could possibly be the new girlfriend, who could have possibly put in an AIM conversation that I don't want to read. Or read facebook notes of an ex-best friend who doesn't like me because I dated her boyfriend first. It's just stupid, and makes me feel bad.

Why make the choice to feel bad? It's alarming how important that question is.

"How much do you really want to know?"


If we don't know about something, and it makes us not care, it can be either good or bad, but where's the line? I think I'd be happier if I hadn't read certain things recently, but does it make me a stronger person? What about when it comes to bad happenings all around the world, that don't directly relate to me? Would I be happier if I didn't know about the goings-on in Darfur? Maybe. But does that matter? That's an issue much bigger than one person. The question is not whether the stories make me happy, but rather what I can do to help. On a completely human level, if I can't help... does it make sense for me to even know? And what if there's an issue where I can help but don't, does that make me a bad person? And in the instance where you do help a cause, does that mean that other causes are unworthy? Other than joining a facebook group that promises to donate money to victims in Darfur for each person that joins, I haven't done anything to alleviate problems over there. But what about literacy? Do I get points for being active in that cause? And is it simply because I know more about it? That I've personally seen the effects, because of what I've let myself know?

Enough about world issues, and back to the selfishness, I think, and back to the local scene of what we don't want to know. Why do we have this inclination to find out things that we know we don't want to think about? Does it make us feel special, to be "in the know"? Is it an integral part of a grieving process, or is it just a stupid mistake, realized ex post facto.

And if it is, why do we repeatedly torture ourselves?

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botticelli
thisgirliknow
Much like pineapples, I am hardcore.

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