consequences for 100,000,000, Alex.
[2005-09-13 - 10:14 p.m.]

We went to Wendy's for supper late this evening, Tim and Tiffany and me.

A bus load of teen's had just left as we were pulling into the lot. I asked the counterperson if there were any baked potatoes left and he said yes, but the side salads were almost gone. Tiffany got lucky, they still had one for her. Tim got his usual, me too.

when we were waiting at the register I tried to talk to Tiffany about what happened today. As usual, she looks down, staring at the ground, or in this case, the speckled counter top. I could see that the stop sign red hairs in her bangs had grown out at least an inch, the pieces closest to her scalp were almost orange. She has a pretty nose. A pretty face, in all. At that angle she looks just like a picture of a little girl I drew when I was 9 or 10 years old. And I love her as much as ever, and I'm as upset for her as much as ever too.

Some kids hand over thier lives to drugs, and then come downward spirals until they hit bottom. And they either die, or recover.

But what's sending her into a spiral isn't as easily identified as 'drugs'. It's her own demons, her own dream world, created without illegal chemicals. There isn't any Anonymous program for that, there isn't any predictable pattern. She may be ok in a couple of years, or she could end up like so many women who get involved in one self-distructive relationship after another until they are too old to be loved by anyone but their aged Mothers.

God doesn't bring down damnation on people any more. We've perfected a way to keep our heads in the sand long enough, and deep enough, to drown out the voices of reason, and then the hell is in living with the consequences.