It seems...
That I am unable to leave this journal be for the night... *Sigh*
I will go through some of my old journals and write them here. It appears to be the pattern of action today.
In Pain
I tear my eyes from out my face.
I rip my hair from off my head.
The only thing of which I am aware,
Is that I'm in pain, and I only need Him...
_____________________________________________________________________
Finished?
"I close my eyes only for a moment, and the moment's gone..."
This is my existence. I am constantly closing my eyes to the realities of that which is going on around me, and I therefore lose the moment in which to act. I lose my ability to react. In so doing, I lose another piece of myself. I close off another tiny section of me from public, and sometimes even private, domain. I have become a museum, rather than a home. A museum which accepts no visitors, and in which I totter about, wandering here and there, peeking out the windows. Occasionally, I open my doors and step out, even allowing private tours of certain areas, mostly those rooms with the least cobwebs and the most opulent of decoration, those corridors and rooms I have kept up, kept my eyes open to, taken care of.
I wish to renovate...
I will go through some of my old journals and write them here. It appears to be the pattern of action today.
In Pain
I tear my eyes from out my face.
I rip my hair from off my head.
The only thing of which I am aware,
Is that I'm in pain, and I only need Him...
_____________________________________________________________________
Finished?
"I close my eyes only for a moment, and the moment's gone..."
This is my existence. I am constantly closing my eyes to the realities of that which is going on around me, and I therefore lose the moment in which to act. I lose my ability to react. In so doing, I lose another piece of myself. I close off another tiny section of me from public, and sometimes even private, domain. I have become a museum, rather than a home. A museum which accepts no visitors, and in which I totter about, wandering here and there, peeking out the windows. Occasionally, I open my doors and step out, even allowing private tours of certain areas, mostly those rooms with the least cobwebs and the most opulent of decoration, those corridors and rooms I have kept up, kept my eyes open to, taken care of.
I wish to renovate...