DONE

I want to scream, to dance, to revel in the fever of not caring. I’m done. I don’t care anymore. Like, legit. I seriously could care less right now. C-? Why not? It’s just a grade.

Why am I here? Why do I do this day after day, week after week, year in year out? I mean really. WHY? I could be out shouting the news of joyous salvation. I could be jumping and running and screaming out love. But instead I sit here. I sing softly, wishing to pour out my voice, to watch it soar higher and higher until it reaches the heavens in perfect golden glory.

I feel as though I’m sitting in a theater, helplessly watching as my life flashes by on the screen, too far away for me to reach. Wasted. So much wasted. Words are my freedom, imagination my escape, music my soul, and God my Spirit.

I live two lives. The one you see: me walking down the hall every day. Smiling some days, other days in tears, most I’m hopelessly lugging my six-million lb back pack.

  The other life changes so much I can’t even begin to describe it. It’s a world where too much happens in a heartbeat.

Do you ever wonder why you write? Something about if fills a void within me, which worries me, cuz maybe there shouldn’t be any voids within me. I’d bet that the day I’m the happiest my writing will suck. Because I won’t need to imagine. Because reality will beat anything that even I could conjure up in my mind full of dreams. That will be the day when my two lives will merge and all will be well with the world.