I have always been way more interested in other peoples' lives than I should be. I'm nosey, I admit it. I try real hard not to be, but it just doesn't work, I'm curious, I'm a gossip, I'm an inquiring mind and I want to know.
I'm afraid that I'm going to grow up to be one of those neighbors that people avoid because I gossip too much. I'm going to be the lady that runs outside in her housecoat in order to overhear the argument occurring in the yard next door or across the street. And then I'll sit on the phone with all my friends discussing the problems of virtual strangers.
I just know this is going to happen (and I dread the day, really, I do) because I'm already guilty of knowing way too many intimate details of other peoples' lives and then discussing them, at length, with my friends. I feel guilty, because really, it isn't any of my business, but still. I can't help but rethink and rehash the little tidbits of information that I have. I mull them over in my mind until I simply must verbalize them. And then it doesn't help that I have friends who are guilty of this addiction themselves. It would be bad enough if it was just my points, but when someone else brings up what they know, woo wee, we can get going. We'll hypothesize motive, method, and eventual outcome; we'll bring up past offenses, prior speculation, presupposed forethought. We get into the where, the how, the why. Especially the why.
I feel bad, really I do, because this is a sin. I am guilty of gossiping, spreading rumors, and sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. I should repent and perform acts of contrition. But I won't. I should just stop talking about other people, but it's so fun. If it feels this good, it can't be that bad. Right? Wrong. And I know it too, I know it's wrong, I just refuse to do anything about it. It's so wrong.