Sometimes I feel cold, alone, weak... so cold. And then next, the warmth of a memory returns. I am so easily discouraged, and yet so easily cheered-up again. Why is my mind so fickle?
I'm moved by the emotions of music, by the troubles and feelings of the characters in my novel as I write out their past, present and future. I'm so in tune with their story right now, I feel like I'm living their lives.
Where do the days go? I feel more like I'm in a dream than the real world. And sometimes tears build a bridge to a better shore, though it hurts to cry. And then I find myself flying, dancing, singing because of the littlest things. I'm on an emotional roller coaster. One day confused and afraid, the next alive and bright and happy. May God forgive my changeableness and insufficient faith.
I'm drowning in ideas, dreams, words, and worries. I find myself trembling, unable to breathe. I know I seem patient, controlled, calm on the outside, but the inward battle rages ever on. I have to speak up. I have to ask. I have to know the answer. Until I have that peace, I'm praying my heart out to the Lord for the patience I lack.
I spend all of my energy thinking and hoping and gathering courage, and once the few opportunities slip from my grasp, I'm left with an empty hole inside -- disappointment. I'm beautifully tortured.
The sun will rise. And then the sun sets.
I'm moved by the emotions of music, by the troubles and feelings of the characters in my novel as I write out their past, present and future. I'm so in tune with their story right now, I feel like I'm living their lives.
Where do the days go? I feel more like I'm in a dream than the real world. And sometimes tears build a bridge to a better shore, though it hurts to cry. And then I find myself flying, dancing, singing because of the littlest things. I'm on an emotional roller coaster. One day confused and afraid, the next alive and bright and happy. May God forgive my changeableness and insufficient faith.
I'm drowning in ideas, dreams, words, and worries. I find myself trembling, unable to breathe. I know I seem patient, controlled, calm on the outside, but the inward battle rages ever on. I have to speak up. I have to ask. I have to know the answer. Until I have that peace, I'm praying my heart out to the Lord for the patience I lack.
I spend all of my energy thinking and hoping and gathering courage, and once the few opportunities slip from my grasp, I'm left with an empty hole inside -- disappointment. I'm beautifully tortured.
The sun will rise. And then the sun sets.
No comments:
Post a Comment