ive been laughing for the last half an hour because sun bears exist
IT’S THE SUN-SUN TO THE MOON-MOON
18. Christian. Pacifist. Waitress. I'm studying Political Science and Women's Studies. I love people, serving them, listening to them, learning about them, History, and anything with fur. I'm taking life one table at a time and taking God up on His word that He will ultimately provide for me.
"And the trees grow so thick, you can barely see through.
And the forest bestows all the simplest of truths.
And you think you’ll be happy if granted one more wish
But the truth is, you’ll never need more, you’ll never need more
You’ll never need more than this.
Want so much in this life, there’s so much to be.
We sail through our youth so impatiently
Until we see that the years move along
and soldiers and heroes come home
And they carry a song:
Don’t live in forgotten times.
May this always remind you of the sea
Under the sky’s blue looking glass.
Let’s make this our story.
Let’s live in the glory.
Time, it fades away, precious as a song,
Cause someday we’ll be gone.
the mediocre gatsby
the decent wall of china
the ok depression
The mildly interesting barrier reef
somewhat fulfilled expectations.
alexander the good enough
The slightly good race.
The final five months of high school and the following Summer was a particularly rough and horrid time for me. I’d suffered my first heartbreak, convinced myself I was crazy because it wasn’t actually anything to be heartbroken over, and found myself in a place that knew no time, knew not of space, and it’s only significant feature were the pieces of myself scattered about the dry, arid ground as if I was once a stained glass window that had been kicked in.
I felt empty, I hated myself because I was boring and lived a boring life and because I was not strong enough at the time to pull myself out of the hole I’d jumped into.
I spent a lot of that time obsessively cleaning my room. Every few weeks I’d do a complete overhaul, I’d throw more things away. I thought that if I just kept scratching away at the surface of my life, if I just kept scrubbing and gutting and tossing and sorting, that I’d eventually find the root of my troubles. I threw away everything anyone had given me in the last few months. I wanted no part in that town anymore. If Kingsport was a stage, I was a stage manager throwing in the towel and walking out the back door. I found letters I’d meant to but never actually burned, I found small tokens of affection I’d buried inside drawers, I ripped up photographs, tossed out picture frames, and swept up enough lost earrings and bobbie pins to supply a pageant queen for months.
I remember how none of that really seemed to help. It was fulfilling while I was doing it but I’d wake up the next day and feel emptier. I lost a bit more of myself with each detox. I remember how good it felt to start packing. Until it didn’t. Until I was sneaking shots of Tequila because mom wasn’t in town, my brother wasn’t paying attention, and it was there. I didn’t tell the boy I was texting how warm it made me feel because he was Good and I was a mess. I also didn’t tell him about how I felt like a piece of shit. I haven’t touched alcohol since.
I remember sitting on my dresser, with both my bedroom windows open staring at the last 18 years of my life neatly packed into ten boxes. Talk about emptiness. A room had never felt so cold.
I remembered moving my stuff into the basement after my brother moved out. The summer before senior year. I remembered how hopeful I’d been. And I remember, now, looking at that hope trapped inside the walls beneath two layers of primer and one layer of New York Cream Behr Premium. All my doing. I trapped it there. Because I didn’t want it anymore.
I remember how good leaving felt. The sweat of my bare legs against the leather seats. The feel of the hot sticky Appalachian air hitting me through two open windows and a sunroof. The smell of an A/C unit that doesn’t work. The sun. The old highway that runs through Mt. Caramel and Rutledge.
And one day I want to pack up this life and I want to look behind me and I want to see that I fought my way into new hopes and was so carefully put back together by a God whose love is bigger than the holes I put in myself. Because I’m a lot better now and I can see Him all over the spider web that has been this new life thus far. Because there is peace now, sometimes it sits beneath a layer of restlessness. But there is peace now.
…Poverty wasn’t created by God. God didn’t mess up and make too many people or not enough stuff. Poverty was created by us because we really haven’t lived into His vision of loving our neighbor as ourselves and of really understanding that someone else’s suffering needs to be mine and it demands something of us. When you have a massive disparity between the rich and the poor, that is unsustainable.