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I love the anoniminytoaisfj (an-non-nim-inity) of writing, sometimes.  I love that I can come on here and write, and be raw, especially when I don't/can't/won't get it out at all during the day.  I love that I can write on here and the people that read it won't be offended because they might not even know who I am.


I love that freedom.  of being able to be honest.  and not worrying about how someone older might misread it, or how my peers might misunderstand, and that younger kids might sprial out into a different direction.  that no one will be offended, no one will worry, no one will etc etc.

until people start reading this.


honestly.  honesty.  honest.

WHAT

am I doing here???

I don't know... I look around and I just feel not at peace, sometimes... like everything is in disaray against my will... when I moved out of my old place and into this place all I wanted was peace.  peace to slow down, peace to think.  tonight I (yes, I - I I I me me me me Lord have mercy) was some steady pace to work to and some sleep.  now it's 12:15 am.  please don't be offended, no - but it's the truth.  it's late and I'm considerably tired and there's still a bit for me to do.  and I'm tired of being tired.





my mind wanders quite a bit, sometimes.  thoughts of back home.  thoughts of the past.  then there's fear.  yes, fear.  I'm a man with fears.  there are fears of the future - the future as in tomorrow, the future as in the week end, the future as in a month or a year from now.

and these fears of mine.  they're rooted deep in the failures that surround me day after day - the things I set out to do, the great things, the subtle things, the small things - all of my failures creeping in, all of my failures turning into fear.



today was the first time in my whole 3 years at The Master's College that I fell asleep in chapel.
(I was ashamed)