The sun has gone dry, so we can sleep forever.

I was rocking some music tonight, like I do sometimes when I’m taking a break from talking to people on the web, when a particular song popped up and caught my attention. I had made a playlist of blood-pumping, exciting music to use during pvp combat in World of Warcraft, and included in the list was a song by the band Norma Jean. The song is titled “Amnesty Please”, and the line that caught my attention and made me take a closer song was “I’ve been so bitter towards you, I’ve been so bitter.” Why’d it catch my attention? My heart is full of bitterness. It’s a plague I can’t seem to escape. I wake up in the morning and think about how my life is so dull and uninspiring. I go to sleep thinking “Wow, I did absolutely nothing to be proud of today”. In both cases, there’s a bitterness that arises in me against the state my life is in.

I’ve become bitter in regards to myself. I’m disappointed in people who have let me down and led me on. And to be honest, I’ve got a heart’s worth of bitterness towards a God that I can no longer seem to appreciate. It’s funny, I know I should get to know God and all that…but know one wants to get to know someone that they think has done them wrong over and over again.

“Burn this to ashes, ashes and framework.” Maybe that’s what is happening, maybe this struggle for meaning, companionship…for life…maybe it’s all an attempt to reach the circumstances under which we can strip away every mask, every facade, everything that we think about ourselves. To burn away all the stuff that makes us appealing and prove that our framework is of itself a thing of strength and beauty. That when we are nothing but ourselves, we are something of worth.

“A dying man needs to die, as a tired man needs to sleep…And there comes a time when it is wrong, as well as useless, to resist.” I feel like a tired, dying man. I man fighting death, fighting sleep, fighting life. Perhaps, in a way I don’t understand, there are parts of me that need to be burned away, surrendered to the grave. Maybe I need to pass away in order to be reborn, to be burned away so that I can see for myself and know that my framework and foundation are beautiful and worth living for. In dying, my bitterness, sadness, regret, confusion, and so many other conflicting emotions that hold sway in my life, could be carried away and after taking a deep breath, I can start over.

I don’t want to sleep forever. I’m still far too young.

Breaking a Wall, Part 2.

As I was re-reading the previous post, I realized something. It’s no longer enough that God just exists in my life. It’s no longer enough that God seems to do things for me…sometimes. Those things no longer sustain me. It’s not that I want God to be there and to do things, but that I want to know God. To get to know who he is, to learn how he thinks, to get to know him as I would a friend.

That’s what’s wrong with me. It’s what I’ve been doing wrong. There was a time in my life not too long ago when I was on the right track. I remember talking to a friend about how I thought that God actually wanted to get to know us, and for us to get to know him. That maybe it’s not only me that needs God, but God that needs me as well. God doesn’t need me to exist, or to do the things he wants, he needs me to know him, because he loves me and I was created to love and know him. To be in fellowship with him, to have a relational friendship with him.

As if I’m slowly waking up from a dream that I’d been having for a long time, my eyes are opening, the blindness is receding, and though my vision is blurry, it’s clearing up. It’s just taking time. But I’ve begun to change my outlook on things, and not just my outlook, but my intake as well. I’m a machine that’s ripping it’s insides out, and changing the entire way that I function. Why? Because I’m not really a machine, I’m a person that God considers amazing, a person that God wants and has intended to have an intimate relationship with since before I was born.

Not to know that he exists, not to see what he does for me, but to know him and who he is.

Breaking a Wall, Part 1.

I’m so out of touch that I don’t even know where to start. I sit here for hours and just think and think and think…and still, I wind up staring around and wondering where all the soul, all the passion in me went. Did I hide it somewhere for later? Did I lose it and just never notice? What happened? I search my past and try to figure it out, but my mind draws a blank. In fact, that seems to be the only thing my mind is drawing lately…nothing. It’s as if I’ve gone from being the wielder of a pen, drawing dreams and visions with hope as my ink and inspiration as my paper, a creator, to a mindless child brandishing an eraser and destroying beauty without even realizing what it is. I’ve slowly but surely been erasing my life.

I keep doing all this random stuff on impulse in an attempt to find out what’s real, what’s truth…to find a way out. I’ll sporadically draw, write, sing, play guitar, go for a walk…all this stuff on impulse. It’s like I try to jump at every opportunity to feel real, to feel alive. But I’m drawing everything in pencil, everything is temporary, filled with extreme highs and lows. There are all these grand, sweeping gestures inside of me. Like I’m on a giant swing or something. I don’t understand what’s going on. I don’t understand why I have to be let down so much. I’m tired of trying and trying. What am I doing wrong?

I keep telling myself that I’m a sinner. But I’m not…I was a sinner. I still sin, but I’m forgiven. I keep telling myself that I’m not passionate, that I just don’t care…but that’s not true either, I do care, so much that I sit here miserable because I know there’s something wrong. I’m trying to convince myself that I’m not hurting when my world is pain and disappointment. I’m gonna make it, I say, while wondering how I’m “gonna make it” when I can’t even move. Maybe I’ll just sit here miserable and hope that one day something will change. I’ll pray that something saves me. I feel horribly trapped. I feel like, if a door would just open, I might be able to get the hell out of where I am.

The only thing that holds me anymore is music. I don’t feel like I’m close to any of my friends anymore. I feel outcast, like I’m an outsider to their lives, and they don’t want anything to do with mine. When all I want to do is give up, I turn on some music, and it doesn’t really matter what or who it is, something stirs inside me and for a while, I feel alive. But it’s not enough.

Where are you at? Right here with me? Right here with me, but silent and asleep? I can’t live on just the thoughts in my head and the words from people around me anymore. They aren’t enough. The you I have isn’t enough. More, more, more, more. Take me somewhere. Take me on a journey towards something unbelievable. Push me towards amazing. Drag me through unwilling. Challenge my fear…do something. Be a God that moves and breathes. Existing isn’t enough anymore…for you, or me. I don’t care whether you exist or not, I care about whether you’re a God that not only exists, but moves, changes, gives, takes, breathes, speaks, laughs, cries, loves…truly loves. And I don’t care whether or not I exist anymore…the way it is, there’s no point…I’m a vegetable, wasting away in my house. Killing days, killing time, killing myself.

I don’t even honestly believe that you’ll do anything anymore. But I can hope. I can decide to love you anyway. It doesn’t make any sense to me…why love someone who’s just there and doesn’t really do much? And yet, I do it with some of my friends every day, love them just because they’re there, even if I don’t “get” anything out of it. In fact, that’s what was pissing me off about people…being so selfish that nothing was worth any effort unless they got something out of it…even if it did end up helping someone. Wow, that’s me. That’s me when it comes to you. Wow, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Haha…I’m an idiot.

XD That’s a good note to end on I think. Thanks. You always make me look retarded…but it’s ’cause you love me and want me to learn. Sorry for being oblivious 90% of the time.