The Things That You Should Never Confide to a Gossip
Gossip is found in some beauty salons
"I shouldn't say this, but . . ."
How does gossip get started?
It starts with the usual symptoms: sadness, feelings of loss, rejection, low self-image, they are all leading to one dark place: Depression. We’re all familiar with this demon with no shape, size or color, but one. Black. Pure, coalmine black. That’s depression.
Always lurking around the next success, victory, or dab of happiness in our lives. He or she’s there, ready to drag us into that dreaded pit of filth, muck, and mire that comes with its own built-in deception device that blinds us into believing that there is no way out of this dark cave that perpetually leads us in and out of illusions, similar mazes and more questions about our own faith, confidence and existence.
Honest to God, I really haven’t an inkling to prove depression is male or female. It’s just that depression sometimes takes on the role of an abusive-husband or boyfriend, and we are his “victims.”
Does my description of depression make sense?
"Wow, Mary Sue. That's hard to believe."
Gossip: A step-by-step progression
Do you know what the next step is when we fall prey to depression? Easy answer. Talking to someone, anyone who knows us and that gives us a sense of peace, not real peace. What usually happens is that these people who live next door to us called gossips, are always aware of when we are being assaulted by depression. It’s honestly uncanny how these people know almost a day ahead that on a certain day of the week we are going to be crawling with our faces on the filthy floor—begging for a friendly ear to listen to our moaning.
Oh yeah. Before long, when the gossip gently says, “Come on, son, (or miss), trust me. I have been in your shoes, so “spill your guts,” to me. I promise to not tell a soul,” we are bawling, squawling telling right and left the inner-most feelings we have kept for months. Mix-in some liquor, and in the beginning of this “Cryfest,” it feels good to tell another person the way we feel, but as it gets more involved, the more people we name and how we “really” feel at how they did us. The gossip loves every minute. They needed some new material to spread throughout the neighborhood. The gossip is so generous. They never let your glass run dry of whiskey.
Even these pretty belles gossip
If we gossip, we get what we deserve
And if you or I are so foolish as to confide our most-guarded secrets to a gossip, we deserve whatever we get. Gossips have hurt us many times before, and yet, we seem to forget “those” times, just as long as these friendly tale-toters stick around and let us lean on them until we feel good again.
Bad mistake. No. Huge mistake, if we are fooled by a gossip for the third time. And when I say huge, I mean huge.
Take this list for instance.
“Things That You Should Never Confide To a Gossip,”
Is the real-truth. No holds barred. No smoke or mirrors. Memorize this list if you must, but just take my points as a friendly reminder to keep thy mouth shut when you are depressed when dealing with a gossip or anyone else.
Kids gossiping? What has become of our world?
"Oh my! She did whatttt???"
Gossiping has been here as long as time
How sad for teens to gossip
Never confide that your preacher’s older brother who lives in another state is really gay and his congregation doesn’t know it.
Never confess that you know for a fact that the mayor of your town was a deserter during the Vietnam War.
Never confide that you have had “secret feelings” for your grocer’s wife who is six years younger than you.
Oh, never tell a gossip that your wife used to have a drinking problem.
Never talk to a gossip about your next-door neighbor who loves to wear children’s clothes when his wife is out of town.
Never let it slip that your older brother got arrested last week on a D.U.I.
Never voice your opinion on the clothes your son’s tenth-grade English teacher wears. “She looks like a twenty-dollar whore with that tight skirt,” you blab to the gossip’s delight.
Keep it to yourself about the eighteen-year-old girl last year who had this serious crush on you when she worked in your office during the summer.
And please, keep “this” under your hat: the baby she had was not yours.
Never talk about public figures such as the police chief whom you say, “Is a complete idiot and ‘apple polisher,” to the gossip who is writing something down in a small notepad.
Do not tell about that one time in college when you and two frat brothers had an all-night “Weedfest,” and you got so buzzed you tried to fly off of your frat house.”
Do not tell the gossip about your insurance agent making several inappropriate moves toward your wife two years ago.
When is my next story, you ask. “None of your business.”
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(Just) talking about meddlers and busy bodies is not enough. It is time I did something about them.
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