I've never thought of myself as particularly eloquent. Or funny, or witty, or wise. There are beautiful phrases out there that come from beautiful souls and sometimes I wonder if the fact that my words are so cheap means I'm shallow.
I hate repeating myself but it seems that's all I do. What is this cycle I've gotten myself into? Momentum and safety and security, and who ever went outside for a snowball fight to be safe? Did God ever promise our comfort? And which comfort is more worth having?
I never thought anyone would ever weigh my words and decide they were worth buying. Density was always a characteristic of me and not what I had to offer.
I always read through old comments in yearbooks. They were all the same but they were all reassuring. Comforting. Could I be proud of them? Just words scrawled on paper from people I barely knew. And maybe that's the only reason why.
Because who ever really knows another person? And who ever really wants to be known so deeply by another human being?
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