I can make an entire emotional forecast from one tiny change in tone

Dear Delyara, A shorter text. A flatter hello. A delayed answer. One sentence with less warmth than usual. That’s all it takes sometimes. My mind doesn’t leave the data alone long enough for reality to arrive and explain it. It begins forecasting immediately. What happened, what I did, what this means, how the conversation has shifted, what is coming next, whether I should prepare or withdraw or explain or stay quiet. By the time the actual truth shows up, I am already tired from weather I manufactured around one cloud. Anxiety makes me a terrible meteorologist. And somehow I still trust it too often.