lionhearted

 

It is the last day of August. I have been eighteen for over a week. I still write, sometimes for an entire day and hardly even stopping to eat, but other times, I do not pick up my pen for days, weeks. It is never a lack of thoughts, but inadequacy to put to words the colors, the feels, the life. Four drafts. All unfinished, rough, raw, too raw. I still listen to music. Probably more than I should. I still dance, but it is not the same. I miss you. Life goes on. The sun has changed the way it shines down, more golden, more gentle. I feel the most alive when the nights grow colder, and the leaves start to rattle on the pavement, whispering their stories to each other. I love my life. I want to grow and broaden my view. I want to know the difference between forgiving, but not wanting to be hurt again. The difference between letting go, but not forgetting. All these fine lines. I need to remember that I am on a journey and I am not there yet. I am on a mission. My banner is Jesus and what He has done for me. I want to love. I do not want to be scared anymore, or if I am to be frightened, I do not want it to stop me. I am still searching.

++like I said, I have four unfinished drafts, but I cannot bring myself to post any of them. I get like this sometimes, when the words never seem right. Just for right now, know that I had an amazing birthday. My parents took me to my favorite spot in the mountains and we wandered beside clear pools and stared at majestic peaks that made us feel so small. I felt loved. Special. You guys made me feel like that, and all the private messages on facebook and the like, made me dance around my room like a child. Thank you.