It's all just very tiring, you know?

Soured

When I was little - littler, honestly - I used to - well, I still do - hold on to treats longer than I should. I used to save chocolate til it frosted over with that white flaky powder old chocolate gets. I would save cotton candy until it inevitably absorbed water from the air and turned into a hard semi-chewy ball of sugar. Fruit would get mushy, bread would go dry, the filling of egg tarts would slowly pull away from the flaky crust. Even now, I saved the chocolate-covered strawberries I loved so much until the berries pulled from the coating and dripped juice when I bit into them.

I wanted things to last. I wanted good things to last. But I wanted them to last so badly, they soured in my hands.

It was only recently I realized I do the same with memories. Late nights, car rides, time spent... Replayed so many times and loved so hard that once the opportunity came back to have them... Somehow they weren't the same. Not sour, really, but not sweet. Not right. Not what they should be. Because the passage of time had, like so many other things, slowly warped and morphed and changed these into something different. Something not right. Something not what it should be. And so the sense of loss pervades, because in being afraid of loss, I lost what little I had to keep.

And so what do you do? You let go.

How do you measure, measure a year? What about half of one? What about something that was supposed to be half of one?

Goodbye

And so she chokes back sobs and self medicates with stories and tea and longings for the past, or a future that will never be.

I like to, I try to, collect beautiful things... Surround myself in their glow. But that's the thing about love - it cannot be contained.

A Fool's Choice

And what now, now that the world seems so terrifying and forbidding? Now that all motivation has been lost? What did you expect? What did you want? Why do you keep pushing yourself down into the dirt with the inability to just do? 

Who did you think you were?

Books

There's a part of me that gravitates towards books of every form and in every context. Libraries and lending libraries, bookstores, secondhand shops that have a literature section, "Free Books" boxes on the sides of the road... Even books in languages I don't understand - they draw me in.

I used to sit by myself during recess, just reading at the edge of the playground. Books are my oldest friends. They don't discriminate. They don't change themselves based on who's reading, or refuse to open their pages to certain people. They don't deny connection. Their worlds are immersive and welcoming, all the time.

Books are love, of a sort.

The Good Days

I wonder if this is what families with relatives that have Alzheimer's feel like... The good days, when everything almost seems normal again.

What is the meaning of this all? Why now? In a way, it's amusing, like a joke you'd play. But are emotions ever okay to play with? What are emotions?

It's interesting to know that despite it all, there are people in the world who would make an effort for you.

A Word of Wisdom

It's so... refreshing? assuring? to know that that's what this is. That's it's valid, it's legitimate, it's something I can trust. I'm not making it up. 

I'm honestly so glad for good community to speak truth into my life. Thanks for the peace and the comfort God.

The outside world matters to us only because we're trying to fulfill needs internally.

Human behavior is complex, but human motivation is simple. Understanding is different from condoning.

The Lens of Time

It's always easy to say that time heals. It's sort of like the cop-out answer when nothing else can be said. But wouldn't it be so... healing to be able to see this situation from five years in the future? Five years in the past? To know what you will think and would have thought, in addition to what you're thinking? Some days are harder than others, but hopefully we're always learning.

And one day we'll be able to see the broken pieces fall together.

To choose to not connect when the opportunity is there is a betrayal.

Broken people are the best vessels for Living Water.

You see me
And You know me
And You love me
Through and through