"it's so hard to do... so easy to say..."

Now listening to: "walk away" by ben harper

"Oh no, here comes that sun again..."

Eyelids shut. Eyelids open. Only to shut my mind and open my impatience. Lord, Lord, Lord. Another prayer goes up unfinished.

"And it hurts me to look in the mirror at myself..."

I just couldn't figure "it" out. I didn't thump myself enough. Too cool. "I've got it from here," i thought to myself. I haven't seen my reflection for months. I forgot what i looked like. I didn't want to know before. I was ashamed. If maybe i just forgot i was there, then i wouldn't have to confront myself.
I always hated getting in fights. Especially with myself. I wanted to be happy. I didn't want to be happy. I wanted to know what i wanted.

"They say that time
will make this pain go away...
But it's time that's taken my tomorrow's
and turned them into yesterday's..."

Time is so good for wounds to heal. That wasn't working. Oh no, my apologies, i did not make it work for me. I've taken my time and pissed right into the wind (for a lack of better words). God has crafted me. Made me to impact our world like it was my life mission. Boom. I squandered that promise of my life, or so i have felt like i have.

"It's so hard to do, and so easy to say...
But sometimes, sometimes, You just have to
Just walk away..."

This is the point where the story is supposed to get better. I'll try to make it a good story. Happy endings and princesses in fairyland worlds with creatures of bizarre beauty and people of historical magic.

This is the point where i decide. Where i choose. But have to choose so hard, so hard, against the lack of momentum my life has had before. I must push a brick wall over before i can start pushing card board boxes over.

This is the point where i take my brothers and sisters along with me. To those who think they are unworthy, too dirty, or just plain unnacceptable to a loving God. The brothers i've seen sniffing cocaine off the curb, shooting heroine up at 8 in the morn, the sisters i've witnessed renting their bodies like a tuxedo for men to where for one night and return, the brothers in their liesure suits crying at night after another night of fornification, wife-emptied, and God-leaving moments, and the sisters eating a little less and less in order to fullfill this world's order of a deluxe mocha-frappa-latte-chino-whatever.

This is the point where i say, "if we don't walk away right here from all that stuff that doesn't matter-- from the stuff that is killing who we really are-- and start walking how we see fit, the momentum will die, and we with it. We know we can't go back to the way it was. No, no, no... We can't... We know that."




"Once again that rising sun is droppin' on down..."

I was talking with a friend tonight. I was writing to be politically correct. These were the words that struggled through my fingertips and were denied by my heart. Real Friends will be sad with you when you are sad. They won't worrying about making you happy.
Friends can make you or break you.

Both are good.




"it's so hard to do...


so easy to say..."

shalom.