still breathing

Things change so much. The things that you were once so confident in now bring about the most doubts.
The person who used to give you butterflies is long gone, and you find a new set of butterflies from somebody you didn’t expect.
And sometimes you look in the mirror and realize that the person you want to be isn’t even close to the reflection you see.
The things that you swore wouldn’t change you, did indeed.
The places that you promised to never re-visit have started to become familar again.

Sometimes I think one of the hardest things for me to grasp about God, is that He is constant when everything else isn’t. When nothing is truly promised in this life, somehow He says His promises will never be broken. And yet, I find trusting the most trustworthy one the hardest to trust.

Those who know your name trust in you, for you, O Lord have never abandoned anyone who searches for you.
-Psalm 9:10

Do you know what I mean?

Reality has become something we hate. Is our existence that unsatisfying? We try everything we can to step out of ourselves for just a moment. We spend hours getting lost in TV shows and movies wishing for the sake of letting our imagination wander through the screen to be something else…to be somebody else. We don’t want our lives. There too much to handle. Or maybe they’re not enough.

We live by song lyrics because they beckon our souls to embrace what something outside of ourselves have to offer. Take a hit of your favorite drug. The high may only last for a few minutes but somehow it’s worth it if it’s means for an escape. And do it again. And again. And again. If we can’t handle it we choose to numb whatever potential may be left. It’s not so much the activities that we should condemn, but rather understand the tragic state of the human condition. We can’t live with ourselves.
 
Drink it down instead. Sleep with more people to avoid boredom. We’re grasped the fact that when we surrender a part of ourselves we feel more alive; yet we’re surrendering all of the wrong things to all the wrong people. We convince ourselves we’re worth more when we give more away. We all have our addictions. What’s yours? Something to consume our heads and destroy our bodies, but ultimately leaving the cry of our souls unanswered.

The thought that there’s a better way doesn’t seem to exist, and to look elsewhere would be to venture into unknown territory. If there is more than this, fear will keep us from even touching it. For all we know, this is our existence. This is all were meant for. Reality is too much, or maybe it’s not enough.

Twenty has a funny ring to it. I’m a bit dissapointed that my teenage years are over. I like being a teenager. I could do teenage things because it was expected.

Like:

Parking in the neighborhood behind the high school because sophmores weren’t allowed to drive to school …and we were just too cool for that. Most mornings you could find us sprinting in the freezing cold to make it to class on time…but everyone was jealous because we were just SO freakin cool to be the sophmores that we’re driving ourselves.

Skipping frist period every Friday morning to go to waffle house…and eventually getting Saturday School for it. We didn’t learn our lesson…we went to Waffle House BEFORE heading to Saturday school. Oops.

Driving to Athens on school nights and getting lost on the way home EVERY time.

Quoting innappropiate Anchorman movie lines to my very attractive math teacher…and him returning the favor.

Night driving after football games with a favorite boy and taking the long way home just to spend an extra few minutes together.

Twenty means that you have to start doing grown up things.
Like not laugh a the wrong time.
Pay rent.
Go to bed earlier. Wake up earlier.
Not listen to my music as loud.

I think I’m better at the teenage things.