I feel like I’m just existing, which is crazy, but almost completely true. It’s too much effort to try and fit myself into the lives of others simply because my life isn’t here. I just don’t have the energy.
Over the past few weeks, it has been confirmed that I am meant to be here – I have a job, for crying out loud! A full-time, be-here-until-you-go-back-to-school job that keeps me busy and distracted and is allowing me to save up money while I live under my parents’ roof and enjoy the rain every evening as I go to bed earlier than I have in over a year so I can get up and see hours I have rarely seen in the past year and do it all over again.
It’s great… it’s just always the same.
Except my dreams. They keep changing, for sure. I’ve had so many bizarre dreams recently that I’m starting to write them down in order to speculate crazily about whether or not there’s any pattern to the madness. There’s not even really anyone to tell anything to, either.
And, after tomorrow, pretty much all of my friends are in Louisiana or some other distant place that is unreachable by an hour and a half or less in the car. I know I’ll be fine… but right now I just want to do what I’ve been doing a lot of the time over the past few days – I just want to curl up in my bed and let myself cry.
This is to be such a time of stretching, I know… but I already feel as though I’ve reached my limit and it’s barely begun. The next seven weeks are going to chew me up and spit me back out in ways I never dreamed of (no matter how bizarre my dreams get).
I’ll be stronger in the end. God will bless me for remaining where I am to be.
It’s just that I ask the same question as C.S. Lewis: How painful will “the best” turn out to be?
Only time will tell.
Until then, pray for me.
Mood: Depressed Listening to: My ceiling fan
Reading: Nothing – I finished The Devil Wears Prada last night