I signed the dismissal for my petition for modification of my daughter's custody today.
I wrote a poem today about something like winter, appearing first as pretty fallen stars and leaving you with nothing but cold, loneliness, and hopelessness.
You can read that here.
I know on the page of contents I wrote that I'd at least do my best, or promised, to post everyday, and I'm sorry, because I've failed you.
Maybe that can be taken as a subliminal,
because I don't always keep my word.
I don't always hold my promises.
Even if I do keep my word, sometimes, you'll find I've found the whole and hole in my words to leave you disappointed nonetheless.
I'm trying to fix that, but how long have I been trying? It feels like eternity sometimes.
I wondered why my sweat still smelled like drugs, why my feet still smelled like rot, why I was still paranoid about things that happened yesterday. It had been months since my last bout of any drug, I'd been bathing, and yesterday was already in the past.
Still, I failed to put the past behind me, and I'd filled my Adderall earlier today.
Proverbs 6:12-15 NLT
"What are worthless and wicked people like?
They are constant liars,
signaling their deceit with a wink of the eye,
a nudge of the foot, or a wiggle of fingers.
Their perverted hearts plot evil,
and they constantly stir up trouble.
But they will be destroyed suddenly,
broken in an instant beyond all hope of healing."
I felt wicked at heart sometimes, even the times when I could pin my lies, deceit, plots, and heart on the rest of the world, because of the sheer fact of how often I winked my eyes, nudged my feet, wiggled my fingers, and thought perversely.
Would I be destroyed suddenly, without any hope of healing? Maybe I already had been.
I still hadn't seen Amelia, but that didn't break me without hope of healing.
I still had hope, but the Bible didn't say I would or wouldn't; it only said I would be broken beyond all hope of healing.
The thoughts that ran through my mind between leaving the pharmacy and arriving at the law firm were perverse, and the thoughts that returned to my mind on the trip back from the law firm to the library were equally as perverse and even more calculating.
It took a while before I could come to terms with the wicked nature of that.
Last night, I'd realized something. I'd realized that,
if you give something to someone, willingly or not, and brought yourself to bring to that person's attention you'd have given that something to them,
you'd imply you trusted them with it. In this realization, I learned that once you sought that something's return, and sought so forth so angrily that you claimed,
"This someone has stolen my something,"
you'd have not only lied about them, to them, but also you'd have probably hurt them,
and ultimately lied to yourself.
Especially, if you've taken back that something by force,
told that someone that something was a lie,
and told that someone that you'd never trusted them,
and in stealing back that something, in lying to yourself,
by saying that they had stolen in,
when really, you'd given it to them,
you've said a lie to them and yourself,
and in believing that lie, begun to hate them.
You hate them because you've forced yourself to,
because if you told the honest truth you'd be admitting;
You'd been terribly wrong, are terribly weak, and are sorry.
But now, you aren't so much as sorry for lying as you are sorry for hating them.
Saying you are sorry for something you'd already apologized for seemed crazy, so did
it make sense to apologize to someone for hating them because you'd made yourself feel so?
and even if it didn't make sense, did this feeling of discontent mean it was necessary?
I wasn't sure.
It was supposed to snow this Saturday, and I loathed the idea.
More cancelled plans, more money spent on coats, the idea of being warm, the coming idea of wanting to be warm, and a never ending list that would soon form ever more concrete in the days to come.
I wouldn't even be getting paid until Friday. I'd realized that my high-strung emotions of worry denoting this week had been incredulously misplaced, it seemed.
However, I thought, maybe they weren't, because I'd never worried that I'd be worried this week.
Each of the previous days had left me broke, making a couple dollars during the day in tips or in findings upon the ground that would be spent later each day on something frivolous and stupid.
Something in proverbs had said that the small increase in wealth is what makes a man wealthy over time. Yeah, I was seeking wealth, and I was disregarding all of my small increases almost as immediately as I'd received them; rather than tossing them over my shoulder immediately, in a comical way, I'd wait a few hours of attempting to convince myself to save it before spending it on one of the things that had battled with all of the other stupid things in my head to spend the money on.
I'd work until late.
Today was going to be a drag, but one I'd be grateful for.
Would I remember to be grateful?
I'd remembered to pray for emotional health.
Would I remember to give thanks?
Next>>>
I wrote a poem today about something like winter, appearing first as pretty fallen stars and leaving you with nothing but cold, loneliness, and hopelessness.
You can read that here.
I know on the page of contents I wrote that I'd at least do my best, or promised, to post everyday, and I'm sorry, because I've failed you.
Maybe that can be taken as a subliminal,
because I don't always keep my word.
I don't always hold my promises.
Even if I do keep my word, sometimes, you'll find I've found the whole and hole in my words to leave you disappointed nonetheless.
I'm trying to fix that, but how long have I been trying? It feels like eternity sometimes.
I wondered why my sweat still smelled like drugs, why my feet still smelled like rot, why I was still paranoid about things that happened yesterday. It had been months since my last bout of any drug, I'd been bathing, and yesterday was already in the past.
Still, I failed to put the past behind me, and I'd filled my Adderall earlier today.
Proverbs 6:12-15 NLT
"What are worthless and wicked people like?
They are constant liars,
signaling their deceit with a wink of the eye,
a nudge of the foot, or a wiggle of fingers.
Their perverted hearts plot evil,
and they constantly stir up trouble.
But they will be destroyed suddenly,
broken in an instant beyond all hope of healing."
I felt wicked at heart sometimes, even the times when I could pin my lies, deceit, plots, and heart on the rest of the world, because of the sheer fact of how often I winked my eyes, nudged my feet, wiggled my fingers, and thought perversely.
Would I be destroyed suddenly, without any hope of healing? Maybe I already had been.
I still hadn't seen Amelia, but that didn't break me without hope of healing.
I still had hope, but the Bible didn't say I would or wouldn't; it only said I would be broken beyond all hope of healing.
The thoughts that ran through my mind between leaving the pharmacy and arriving at the law firm were perverse, and the thoughts that returned to my mind on the trip back from the law firm to the library were equally as perverse and even more calculating.
It took a while before I could come to terms with the wicked nature of that.
Last night, I'd realized something. I'd realized that,
if you give something to someone, willingly or not, and brought yourself to bring to that person's attention you'd have given that something to them,
you'd imply you trusted them with it. In this realization, I learned that once you sought that something's return, and sought so forth so angrily that you claimed,
"This someone has stolen my something,"
you'd have not only lied about them, to them, but also you'd have probably hurt them,
and ultimately lied to yourself.
Especially, if you've taken back that something by force,
told that someone that something was a lie,
and told that someone that you'd never trusted them,
and in stealing back that something, in lying to yourself,
by saying that they had stolen in,
when really, you'd given it to them,
you've said a lie to them and yourself,
and in believing that lie, begun to hate them.
You hate them because you've forced yourself to,
because if you told the honest truth you'd be admitting;
You'd been terribly wrong, are terribly weak, and are sorry.
But now, you aren't so much as sorry for lying as you are sorry for hating them.
Saying you are sorry for something you'd already apologized for seemed crazy, so did
it make sense to apologize to someone for hating them because you'd made yourself feel so?
and even if it didn't make sense, did this feeling of discontent mean it was necessary?
I wasn't sure.
It was supposed to snow this Saturday, and I loathed the idea.
More cancelled plans, more money spent on coats, the idea of being warm, the coming idea of wanting to be warm, and a never ending list that would soon form ever more concrete in the days to come.
I wouldn't even be getting paid until Friday. I'd realized that my high-strung emotions of worry denoting this week had been incredulously misplaced, it seemed.
However, I thought, maybe they weren't, because I'd never worried that I'd be worried this week.
Each of the previous days had left me broke, making a couple dollars during the day in tips or in findings upon the ground that would be spent later each day on something frivolous and stupid.
Something in proverbs had said that the small increase in wealth is what makes a man wealthy over time. Yeah, I was seeking wealth, and I was disregarding all of my small increases almost as immediately as I'd received them; rather than tossing them over my shoulder immediately, in a comical way, I'd wait a few hours of attempting to convince myself to save it before spending it on one of the things that had battled with all of the other stupid things in my head to spend the money on.
I'd work until late.
Today was going to be a drag, but one I'd be grateful for.
Would I remember to be grateful?
I'd remembered to pray for emotional health.
Would I remember to give thanks?
Next>>>
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