Lately.

Things have been good.

Running smoothly.

The summer sun is burning my pale skin.

My legs are breathing peacefully in these shorts.

My eyes are seeing thru my retro shades.

The tops of my shoulders are blushing with new freckles.

The thoughts for the future excite my heart with a tiny bounce.

And it is at peace.

These times are far and few between.
But tonight I am soaking it in.
Windows down.
Music playing.
Watching as the sun slowly goes to sleep.
I love being young.
I love being alive.
I love having questions.
I love love.

I start to worry and stop myself.
Lay those things down sweet girl.
Run wild.
Run Free.
Beauty is yours.
Laugh Loud.
This moment is for you.


Lately, I'm cherishing these moments.


..

World's Apart.

And I've never met him.
I don't know how tall he is.
Or if the sound of his voice has a deep echo
that bounces off the bottom of your ribs.

But the things he writes makes me feel like I could
sit and talk with him for the rest of my life.
One with a haunting soul and lonely heart full of ache and mystery.

The ones I'm immediately drawn to.
The ones who break me to pieces all the time.

I've been reading his work for the past hour and am
mesmerized by his thoughts.


I remember one time I went to this show.
It was downtown in a building that, from the outside, looked abandoned.
The drummer sang along while his friends strummed on their guitars beside him.
As if they were there for support rather then complementing melodies.
He screamed and yelled words that were dark and light.
The setting was very heavy.
I could see right thru him.
He fought demons darker then he knew.
His music spoke of deeper struggles that I believe he didn't even know he had.
But he thought he was deep. He spoke as if he was free.
His eyes, his body language was of a broken kid.
Trying to grow up.


The more I read these mans words I am feeling the same.
The dark heart of a aching wanderer.
His words are priceless.
Ones I love.

But his life I cannot seem to grasp.
drugs, alcohol became the death of him.

I think that when writers search too deep into themselves, they become lost.
We don't find the answers.
We don't find the meanings.
And sadly we can't find the words.

so instead of going deeper in our own issues which brings more pain.
We cover the pain with other substances.
Other people.
Other thoughts.
Other cities.


Writing is sometimes dangerous.
It brings things to surface.
You might not want to face.
Because these thoughts are precious and want to be heard.
But they probably aren't getting read.
It doesn't matter.

They are being heard.
clearly.

I have so many questions for him.
How do you feel, truly?
What are you thinking?
Do the drugs really help, or do you still feel cloudy?
do you think you should be rescued?
Do you want to be?
Where is your hope?
Do you have hope?


Your close friends.. do you really feel true fellowship?
Or do they love you because of the things you write?
Because of the things you do or simply because of who you are?


The fact is he is dead.
I cannot meet him or get to know him truly.
Only his words he left behind.
This saddens me.
Because there was hope for healing.
And reason that Truth could be found.
And he missed it.
I don't know, maybe he didn't and one day I'll find out.
I cannot judge but my heart is sad.

what am I doing with my life????
that I won't end up like him.

I have hope.
I want to be rescued.
I see the beauty.
I write with love.

I wish he did too.

..

I Gave It All.

And it was all for love.

and I was hurt.
deeply burned.

it was all for love.

and I was broken.
and beaten.
ripped apart and shattered.

it was all for love.

and I was lied to.
spit on.
slapped.
and punched in the sides.
I couldn't breathe.

it was all for love.

and you walked away.
you ran further away.
you closed the door.
you hid in the closet.
and spent days building walls.

it was all for love.

and I called you every day.
I wrote you letters every hour.
and sang your name out loud.

it was all for love.

and you were lead into dark places.
places with no light.
no reality of escape.
nothing.

it was all for love.

and it was all to have you begin to run.
to see where your treasures lie.
to see the hope to which I called you.

it was all for love.

and I was jealous.
of your love.
of your heart.
of your soul.
of your thoughts.
of your laugh.

it was all for love.

and nothing could hold me back.
I fought off every chance of evil towards you.
I broke open the secrets in your life.
I ran.

it was all for love.

I ran towards you.
I run towards you.
always. running.
forever.

this is all for love.

and you live.
and move.
and breathe.
and have life.
in Me.

this is all for love.

and when you were made.
I held you.
dearly.

this is love.

and I long for you.
I wait for you.
I dream of you.
I think of you.
all the time.

this is love.

I sit on the porch of the world.
watching.
waiting.
looking.
for you.

this is love.

and I have a story.
and you are a part of it.
you are the cause of it.

this is love.

and I chose not to be without you.
and I gave it all.

it was all for Love.



..

Two Decades.

It seems to me that your 20's are the most excruciating pivotal moments in your life.
why is that?


I feel as tho these years are holy ground for questioning, rebellion and truth.



I rebelled in my teen years.
Not so much outwardly as I did inwardly.
I questioned everything, every motive.
why do this? why do that?
I will not do what you tell me to do.


I defied my parents by running away one weekend.
Only to be found hours later in the upstairs room of my friend.


But my 20's have been all together something more wild and freeing then those moments on the weekends when I was a teen that I was sure nobody would find out about.


I thought so much for my 20's.
I thought I'd change the world.
Get married.
Write some books.
make a few babies [maybe]

But NONE of those have happened yet.


And here I am.
Not a single plan I had come to the present.

I've watched my friends as we've ventured into these years.
And we are not who we used to be.
Maybe because we've become so jaded and used.
or because we've already become tired and feared the worst.
But there's something about our spirits that keep coming back to life.
Keep urging us to run.


I've never experienced such life altering trials in my life before now.
I've never questioned the Truth has much as I have.
I've never rebelled as much as I have until now.



why is that?
was it meant to be this way?

most of my generation is not married.
When over half of our parents would already of been married by this age already expecting children.
We don't go to church regularly and we often socially drink.

Have we become the people are parents warned us about?
Or is there something more going on?
Deeper meaning to our actions then we even realize.





..