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| <i>"And I can sing of Your love forever... I can sing of Your love forever..."</i>
And at this point - the truth is - I probably can't. There have been a lot of sinful, dirty things I've done in my life. More than I care to count, and more than I'm willing to admit. As I stand here in midst of a worship, it almost feels as if the melody - the words - the lyrics, the sounds, are suffocating me. Surrounding me, demanding me to tear open my heart and throw it to the ground. Daring me to be real, to be absolutely real. And to be real, I guess, I would need to step down and hide away - just me and God. I know it's been said that it shouldn't matter who's around, who's listening, who's playing, who's present. But it matters. It matters when you're behind the congregation - it matters when you control visuals - it matters when you're depended on and you have responsibility. It matters when you've fallen short of your shortest yet and you know it. How can you even look anyone in the eye, KNOWING that it was your choice, your decision to do what you've done?
I just want to keep writing, to express what I need to say, to continue on. I can't even pray because it doesn't feel right - I'm not right - I can't ask for forgiveness for the same thing I've been doing. I just need to make sense of all of this. To make something logical out of the illogical decisions I've made. The sound of the keyboard soothes me, both the piano and the laptop. If I keep writing maybe I'll make some sort of sense of what I'm trying to say.
I'm trying not to focus on anything else but every time I acknowledge what I've done, a feeling of dread, self-condemnation, settles on my chest. I am not worthy to be here - and every time I acknowledge that, I'm unable to work. I almost wish that it were as easy as if my life were a dry erase board - able to erase the dirt from the past week so that I may be clean going onto this week.
"You can worship with your eyes open. When I worship with my eyes open - I don't see them. I'm in."
Focus, focus, focus...
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| "I haven't ever really found a place that I call home. I never stick around quite long enough to make it. I apologize that once again, I'm not in love. But it's not as if I mind that your heart ain't exactly breaking. It's just a thought, only a thought. If my life is for rent and I don't learn to buy... Well, I deserve nothing more than I get, cause nothing I have is truly mine."
My favorite songs, songs that I could listen to over and over and over again... Are not love songs. To be honest, this year feels like it's been a journey of self-finding. Of trying to figure out what really works for me. I never really took the time to notice all the changes, to think about, to compare and contrast the past and the present. Oh, I'm sure there's a lot of me that is still the same. But when he said, "Yeah, you haven't changed.", no bigger lie could have passed his lips.
I've become completely enraptured in finding a life all on my own. In thinking about where I want to live, where I should be in life, who and what I'm willing to leave behind, and what is important to me now. Have you ever called someone your best friend and didn't really mean it? Have you ever thought the words "I love you", but didn't really mean it? Like... It was a reaction, knee-jerk, to say it?
Today, while at the waterfront I thought to myself, "I say a lot of things I don't mean." Bad and good things included. Sometimes it feels like verbal diarrhea - the ability to stop myself from spewing these words seems almost impossible. Other times, I feel like I throw around words uselessly, to better enhance a conversation - make it more meaningful than it really is.
I'm trying to find meaning in my life, real meaning, not this nonsensical day to day type of thing. I just want something solid, defining, THERE, real - viable. Memories I used to know like the back of my hand have faded into simple words on this blog. I can't even recreate the images anymore. Has so much time passed? I can't conjure up the feelings from the past, where I had so adamantly, so fervently written about... how I felt. The passion, the anger, the sadness, the hate, the happiness, the joy, the bitterness. I can't even discern those feelings from the words alone. Is that how flat my tone was? Is that how... Did I honestly lack that much?
I mentioned to a friend today how naive I must have been to truly have gone to the ends of the world for something or another. And I think to myself how, not even earlier this year, I may have shared the same sentiment. But... There had to be a line drawn somewhere, right?
"I always thought that I would love to live by the sea. To travel the world alone and live more simply. I have no idea what's happened to that dream cause there's really nothing here left to stop me. It's just a thought, only a thought."
For once in my life, I feel like I can make decisions regarding my life. Regarding the path my life may take. I don't have to worry about someone else's life. Does that sound selfish? Going off on a tangent, I was reminded of my high school days just now, and though they aren't entirely too far away... I feel that there is no way, no way in hell, that I would willingly go back.
But, I digress.
Today, I just feel really old. | | |
| "If you're not the one, then why does my soul feel glad today? If you're not the one then why does my hand fit your's this way? If you are not mine, then why does your heart return my call? If you are not mine, would I have the strength at all?"
And my heart warms. I haven't had the balls to listen to this song in years. Yes, years. Even when we were together, I couldn't listen to this song.
Hm.
There's... Wow, there's so much to say. I don't know where to begin. I love how this reminds me of how much I used to be in love. It's there, but it's not... It's not how I feel anymore, does that make sense? The soul-deep, heart-wrenching, know-in-my-gut that I'm absolutely head over heels. It's... Not there. And the only time I feel like that, sadly, is when I'm reading some love story.
Something about this song makes me want to get in my car and just think for a little bit. Maybe I will. | | |
| "I took a chance, I took a shot... And you might think I'm bulletproof but I'm not. You took a swing - I took it hard, and down here from the ground I see who you are. I'm sick and tired of your attitude, I'm feeling like I don't know you. You tell me that you love me then cut me down."
Three twenty three am. Can I write down what transpired today? Or is it something that I should keep hidden beneath the depth of my mind, just below the surface of the repression of memories? My mind never really lingers, but I know I need to write. I know I need to express. But what? But what? But what, but what, but what?
Maybe if I close my eyes and just my fingers flow - I can paint the picture I want to say.
He's asked so much of me in so very few words. Never defining who I am, but always keeping me just close enough. I wasn't the girlfriend, the best friend, or the fuck buddy. I was simultaneously all three at once - with a no strings attached contract. On call for anything - at least, that's how it played out, didn't it? "Hello lovely." "I miss you..." "Don't you miss your relaxing buddy?"
And I... Well, I always had one foot out the door. As long as he wanted me, I was willing to stay - while at the same time, not allowing myself to develop any sort of attachment. Don't text him. Don't call him. Don't look for any updates about him. But if he wants to call me, if he wants to text me, if he wants to message me... Well, why not?
If I spend too much time thinking about it... It just doesn't feel right.
Even writing doesn't help. | | |
| "Savior, He can move the mountains. My God is mighty to save, He is mighty to save. Forever, Author of Salvation, He rose and conquered the grave. Jesus conquered the grave."
To be quite frank, I'm beginning to hate facebook. I'm beginning to hate any social networking site out there. It feels like it's becoming an addiction - to constantly know what other people are doing and to constantly let other people know what I'm doing. Truth is, the only reason we care so much is because we are either A) Nosey as hell or B) Conceited as hell. It doesn't matter because both are bad qualities to have.
I want to take a vacation from all this internet stuff. A vacation from my phone. From duties. From what's needed of me. I don't really care much about anything that's going on right now except that I want to center myself and be okay with where I am. All of a sudden, everything got so complicated and I don't like it. | | |
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