tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13680868.post-1158269046123791272006-09-14T16:07:00.000-05:002006-09-14T16:24:06.420-05:00I'm picturing myself saying this to some girl, someone I could be in love with. I always imagine future conversations and exactly what I would say. I say it out loud sometimes, I feel the emotions I will feel then like I do when I'm writing. My metaphors are so weird, people don't get them. They don't think wide enough and connect things like I do. I have to find someone who can, like K or E, girls I can't have...<br /><br />Saying I wish I didn't believe in God, but that I do. Saying I know it's not logical, but that I feel it and feeling is more important than logic. Feeling is what we're made of. Saying even though I hate the corniness, I really do believe that when God closes a door, he opens a window. Saying clouds really do have silver linings, but you have to look. Sometimes it's hard to see. You could be in the worst pain of your life, and see one beautiful thing, one tiny light, and the gift of even one thing, of being alive, is enough to keep going. Nothing should be thrown away. You can turn your pain into your greatest strength, and when you doubt yourself, you can look back and say, I made it through that because I'm strong, and other people might not know that you carry that gift inside you, but you know. That's the lining, the window...<br /><br />When I'm alone, if it's dark and for some reason I'm paranoid and panicky, I reach out for God. I never went to chruch as a child, I don't know where I got the idea, but I always have. I can reach out, reach up, and I feel the power of God touch me. I feel as if the whole universe is inside me, and I'm covering, I'm touching every point, the way God must, and it's beyond me. Really I don't know what it is. It's a gift, it's a beautiful mystery seen through a dark glass and some things do not need to be elucidated. People don't understand that sometimes.<br /><br />I reach and it's like Emily Dickinson said of good poetry, that it feels as though the top of your head has come off, and ideas are flowing in, unfiltered, unblocked, beautiful even if frightening sometimes. Sometimes dark things are beautiful. It's something so beyond the strength of one person to create...I try to tell people the things I have felt, in group worship, in a group of people crying together and praying together, as hard as we can, it is the most beautiful pure feeling in the world, not ephemeral like sex, not uncontrollable like drugs...just safe, just known and protected and most of all loved.<br /><br />I was crying thinking of this future conversation, now I'm sobbing and I don't know why. Maybe because I'm drinking a little again, because I lost $1000 gambling yesterday, because I'm neglecting all my schoolwork, because I've been up for 30 hours now and I don't want to go to bed, I'm afraid of it like I always used to be, I'm afraid of being alone with my thoughts.<br /><br />This writing, this letter isn't to myself...this is to you.irahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08126052534311148133noreply@blogger.com