a narrative. sunday the twenty fourth.

I can’t even write a fucking narrative properly anymore. Fucking damnit.

I’m not even angry. 

with love.  

Ivory hilted dagger and sheath.

we’re on our way. friday august the 22.

so shit hit the fan. about two days ago, the worst thing that I thought I could ever happen occurred. and i’m still leaving, and things are getting better slowly and surely. 

in the name of love, I have been removed from places of comfort into zones that I have no idea where I’m going. In two days, my name has been dropped and thrown into the dirt, I’ve been stripped of a comfortable seat that was given to me, and I attempted to put myself into the hospital. but things are getting better. We’re getting there. 

and there has been so much shit from everyone else around, which is very understandable, but not very helpful. and I’m just tired of everyones opinions on the matter. 

because I feel free. everything though technically, I shouldn’t feel that way. but I do feel free, and everyday I can see the future coming in the distance at a pace much slower than before. 

I feel like the whole way through, there was hasty and rushing sprinting towards this finish line, and now that I’m at the homestretch we’re jogging towards the finish line. and maybe because i’m so use to running and racing to get things accomplished that any slower pace seems stagnate.

but we’re getting there. 

with love.


waking up. august nineteenth.

maybe I’m finally waking up, and this is my ticket home. there’s no way I could possibly be here anymore. I’ve already fucked up that was so good here, and maybe that was to scare me back to the place that I had decided too hard for me to deal with. 

but did I ever give it a chance? I blamed outside forces instead of blaming myself, just like I’m doing now. only now, I completely blame myself for my choices. I made my choices and now I might have to lie in my grave, and I should have listened to all the voices that told me that I wasn’t doing the right thing. and now, I feel like i’m taking too many steps backwards; I need to move forward and do something right. 

and now I’m listening to the entirely of Steffany Frizzell- Gretzinger’s the Undoing. and maybe this is what this experience is doing. it’s humbling me and undoing me. So I’m crying, begging and pleading that He has mercy on my soul. Cause it needs rest, there’s too many things that I have been carrying that I know longer think I’m strong enough to carry. 

with love. 

"Get into the habit of saying ‘speak Lord,’ and life will become a romance."
Oswald Chambers (via wonderingthroughflowers)