Hmph. Very strange day. Complete with firefall hype crap blah-ness. Mixed with a little Indian camera guy WHO IS ALWAYS STANDING IN MY WAY. Seriously though—he is a wall separating me from all that is good—all that I should believe in. He’s torn it all apart and I feel like I’ll never get myself back. I really really dislike him for that. And I really don’t know how forgiveness can be reached. So. The wall it is, I suppose.
On a lighter note…
I always knew there was something different about you—something admirable. And all I know is that I look forward to seeing you, every day. All I know is—you make me feel restless. You make me feel like there’s more to me than what I am showing. You make me feel as vast and unsearchable as the universe—and I like that. You make me want to surrender.
“I want what we all want,” said Carl. “To move certain parts of the interior of myself into the exterior world, to see if they can be embraced.”—You Don’t Love Me Yet, Jonathan Lethem (via fuckyeahliteraryquotes)
Cold water, rush, gushes over my warm skin A cold water rage. Hope is a prayer easily spoken but it is not like anything useful in such a time as this. It is not like a coat in cold weather or a wet suit in the ocean. It is merely a vague idea, a thin layer of air a whisper too soft to hear a thought too large to know—useless in such a time as this.
You fall asleep and the sheets feel nothing like hope because hope is nothing like a blanket in the cold, in the darkness. It’s nothing you can wrap around, cocooning in the shell of you. It will never protect you from the sting, the bite of cold water reality spitting in your face.
It is more like the knowledge that after winter comes spring and the buds will bloom again the sun will melt the ice off you like a layer of skin. Hope is assumption of safety, the illusion of a rescue boat as you drift in out, under the waves. It is the outstretched hand that you imagine emerging as you’re losing your grip, slipping off the cliff.
Hope is not a reality. It is nothing to touch, to taste. It is only like the imagined comfort of land after a long day at sea of a river meandering through the desert.
Hope was never mine to hold—useless in such a time as this.
So I whisper soft Your name, let it roll around my tongue, knowing You're the only one who knows me.
There’s distance in the air and I cannot make it leave I wave my arms’ round about me and blow with all my might I cannot sense you close, though I know you’re always here But the comfort of you near is what I long for When I can’t feel you, I have learned to reach out just the same When I can’t hear you, I know you still hear everyword I pray And I want you more than I want to live another day And as I wait for you maybe I’m made more faithful
And it all seems so helpless and I have no plans. I’m a plane in the sunset with nowhere to land. And all I see it could never make me happy. And all my sandcastles spend their time collapsing. Let me know that You hear me. Let me know Your touch. Let me know that you love me. Let that be enough.
I’ve been withdrawing for everyone lately. I will get angry at you for the smallest things. I will lose my temper over internet access. I will throw things around my room. I will go to your class but I will not be silenced. You change the movie time on me and I will cancel the plans.
There is an old anger that is coming to light. An anger that only knows darkness. An anger that will not accept anyone, anything. So I feel best when I’m in solitude. Because I will push you to the edge.
I’m not silent anymore and it’s about to hurt everyone I know. So I chose solitude. I chose to let it hurt me instead.
I just want to know You’ll be there when everyone walks away. I just want to know You’ll be there, even if I don’t believe every word they say. I just want to know You’ll stay with me, in the night, when I’m afraid. If I curse Your name. If I scream and cry and yell. I just want to know You’ll hold my hand in the fog, in the loneliness.
I just want to know that Your love is unconditional despite all the conditions I’ve been a slave to here. I just want to know that You’ll love me anyways.
How can I know. How can I feel. All emotion has been thrown away and shoved in my face. Don’t shove it in my face. Please, don’t shove it in my face. Tell me it’s okay to act this way—to shout and scream and cry and yell. Instead of study and analyze and interpret and translate.
I’m done with not feeling. Not caring. And I’m tired of knowing all about God, this majestic being. I want to know about the lover of my soul, instead. About the man who cradles my heart and head to rest each night. About the soft whispers in my ear to stay strong. No. I don’t want to know Him. I want to FEEL Him. Pulse through my vanes, intoxicate every once of me until I slip off into a sweet slumber of peace. I want to feel Him. I don’t want to know Him anymore.
Knowing has turned me numb. I don’t want to know Him anymore.
I am filled with so much anger lately. Swallow it, swallow it deep down. Hardens like a rock at the pit of my stomach. My eyes have come alive to see the injustices of this world. And they are buried, buried deep. Like a seed. Like a disease, festering.
I need to get out. I want to get out. This seed is drinking up all my belief.
“One day I would have all the books in the world, shelves and shelves of them. I would live my life in a tower of books. I would read all day long and eat peaches. And if any young knights in armor dared to come calling on their white charges and plead with me to let down my hair, I would pelt them with peach pits until they went home.”—
“The only obsession everyone wants: ‘love.’ People think that in falling in love they make themselves whole? The Platonic union of souls? I think otherwise. I think you’re whole before you begin. And the love fractures you. You’re whole, and then you’re cracked open.”—The Dying Animal, Philip Roth (via fuckyeahliteraryquotes)
Oh, I miss Mitchell's! They have amazing coffee and they're always less crowded than Starbucks.
Hill, though... ugh.
Haha, Hill and I actually had a pretty decent conversation. He was writing a paper on poetry… and he saw that I was interested, so he said he would “shoot it my way.” Haha. Oh Hill. You will never atually know how much I dislike you.
So... first of all, I wasn't stalking you this time. Promise. I was looking at a picture one of my friends posted and in the right sidebar there was this "so and so tagged Sally in a picture over a year ago. Check it out!" So I checked it out.
You look really good in this picture. Just thought I'd let you know.
Hahaha. I love how you clarified, “I wasn’t stalking you this time.” But ah…. thanks? Yup, I guess I always will look good with a lil guitar hero in my hands. Oh, and I actually look happy. That’s always a plus.
So done with this school. This WILL be my hardest semester because everything about me screams against everything this school is teaching me. Random conversations on El Prado about homosexuality and talking about women in leadership in Theology—-WHYYYYYY???? Why are these even issues anymore? THIS IS THE 21ST CENTURY. Why. To know that I was once that close-minded just astounds me. Baffles. Gah. Yes, I know what the Bible says about this, about that—and yes, I know AG (and all denominations) love to act like their own God and pick out which verses to follow and which to ignore.
GOD CARES ABOUT YOUR HEART. THAT’S ALL. If you tell me that you are homosexual, but also truly love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength… then WHO CARES ABOUT THE REST. It’s not for anyone else to decide.
"Screw the world—change yourself" - Huett
I am just really really beaten down today. I emotionally feel like I have been beaten.
And there is no one here that one have a conversation with me without condemning me. There is no one who will listen.
And you wonder why I’d rather just spend my weekends alone.
“Belinda stared into the fire for some time, thinking about what she had in her life, and what she had given up; and whether it would be worse to love someone who was no longer there, or not to love someone who was.”—