Wreckage.

I want to read so many books. Snuggle up in my bed for days with just a head lamp and a billion pages. Maybe the occasional tea and breath of fresh air. It is now November and thoughts are rustling about with the leaves. There aren't many leaves, but there are copious amounts of thoughts outside. It's funny how one day you go from a mask and the next it's only warm colors and new things. No one said it was easy, Yahweh continually does His thing of giving and taking. Which is better? Because I collapse at the beauty of His gifts, but I also collapse at the thought of emptiness and loss. What does this world need? So many more thoughts and so many more pumpkins outside.

What can I make better? This whole seasonal thing should bring me so much joy. Leaves changing, climate reversing, and new clothing arising. It should be a happy time with my friends and family, and if that is so...if that is absolutely a comfortable thought...then why do I feel the stone of my exterior getting harder? My dimples losing extinction and my roots growing out faster than usual. Why do I sometimes not wanna get out of bed because if I just close my eyes my homework will be done, my scene will be memorized, and I will feel better when I wake up again. And then I do wake up again and the cycle continues.

I haven't been to church in a long time. Since before all of this wreckage. I know that the enthusiasm at my fingertips changes so quickly and abrubtly, but I need to feel happy. At this point I am not where I want to be. I hate my school, my living arrangements, and this figure in the reflection-ah my fingers are typing all the wrong things. I wish I could just write about a painting. Or poet. Or author. Or book. Anything except go into detail about this hole I'm in; this hole in my chest. This longing, longing, longing to just be important. To be loved fully and wholly and to reciprocate that love in my bones because it is so extravagant and it is so real. I want my passion to come back. The same passion I feel when I'm in Colorado. The passion to want to be better. To feel God in my every step. Now THAT is a good feeling. That is a feeling worth risking your life for.

God, I hate crying. God, but it free's my soul in a way. What a mess I am.

I just need to want to read the bible. To want to stay sober because I am who I am for purpose. I am here to do something. I gotta do something.