I think there comes a point in your life where, to put it crudely but well, shit just hits the fan.
Sometimes people share too much and I don't want to be that person.
But I want to be real.
I look at the gray skies and think, man, this is suffocating. This is so hard to be blanketed by cold. The sun neglects us, she turns her back on us and her rays are a distant memory. And then, divinely, the clouds part. And I can see her. She's there always, I just forget.
Is this life? Is this what life is all about? Sometimes I feel like I can't breath. Like all I do is swallow sorrow and eat abandonment.
I mourn a life I had. I wish desperately for a wish that may never come true.
I see in my mind the scene of a film, where people walk on a busy sidewalk, fast forwarded. You can't distinguish their faces, there are so many people. How do all these people live? So many different stories? How is it all possible that we are here together, all of the human race, at this time so unconnected? The nagging feeling of being alone when so many are around you.
Today my best friend called me. She comforted me. I cry even just thinking about it. And then I went about my day thinking how I wish I didn't have to burden her, even though I know she doesn't consider it a burden. One day I'll win the lotto for us Ram.
I'm not alone. And when I think of those so kind around me, I realize more than anything that there is a God. He loves me. There are so many of His angels here on earth doing His will. I just have to be better, try to be one of those angels, because happiness is when we're helping. I hope and pray I can be like those who lift me and carry me.
I read to Eli and Ella the story of the 10 virgins. Is my lamp full? Do I have backup oil? I do truly hope so.
I read to Christina and Maria a story about prayer. How God answers prayers, how he loves us. We felt so peaceful and full of love hearing those words. I told them to always remember God and that He would never leave them. If ever I could leave my children anything, I pray that it would be this knowledge. That they could know for themselves of a surety.
A good friend of mine left the church. His family too. His struggle breaks my heart. His sadness. The sadness of his wife. I wish I could help or do something.
What is the point of all this? I have pink eye and a head cold. It's bad weather and I just finished a super depressing book. So, never... really. NEVER read super depressing books
(let alone about prostitutes who have no hope of a future when it was never their fault to begin with) when you feel bad enough as it is. And don't stay up late thinking that some late night writing session is going to make it all better. Also, don't break your camera. Because if you had a camera, then you could take pictures of all the happy things in your life. The things that go right and that consume your life with goodness. But with it broken, you have nothing but your words and bare soul.
And that is overshare.
But strangely. It's Ok.