comfortable?

gotten comfortable with that which was not genuine or true.
that which was incomplete and insufficient.
that which was surface and supposed.

somehow, "seems" was better than the real deal.
there's nothing 100%, i thought.
nothing's perfect, i knew.
nothing lasts forever, i mused.

somehow, that was a comfort.

good thing that, truth be told,
Jesus is 100%, God's will is perfect, and His word lasts forever...

i need not settle for less than that comfort.

QOTD

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.” - C.S. Lewis

no voice

don't want it to have a voice, but it still comes up.
know it has no power, yet it swelters just beneath my surface waiting for a moment of weakness
don't want it to have a voice, but to deny its existence is falsehood.
understand that it's defenseless against the spirit within me, nevertheless there it is: anxious for me to let my guard down
won't dare let it escape my fingers,
can't let it bleed from my pen,
absolutely will not let it escape my lips,
because i don't want it to have a voice.

word to the wise

sometimes, you just should have known better, but you do it anyway. there's always some 'reason why' and it's always 'totally justifiable.' however, when the consequences rain down, you can always harken back to the simple fact that you just should have known better...

at the time, my 'reasons why' felt like license to do whatever felt like release; my reasons why were many and ran deep. straight and narrow felt like an impossible path, and what i needed was a good dose of some other way. so, temptations came to me and met no resistance. self-control became something i practiced some other time, just not now.
after all, i was forgiven.
and let's not forget, my reasons were many and ran so deep...

but time always has its way of giving a view from the hindsight. the real fact of the matter was that the lover of my soul knew every single one of my reasons that ran deep, and even in those, i should've known that He doesn't put on me more than i can bear. having taken the cross for my sake, the least i can do is fight tempatation in times of trouble for His. the whole "some other way" idea, became a huge message of "that was so obvious". it's like i forgot whose child i was.

oh, and because of "some other way," i returned to work about as productive as a historectomy and sharp as a pencil stub. and i had gone from taking every thought captive to having every thought take me captive. and my quest for love in all its forms with a man turned into me having the fray's "how to save a life" stuck in my head. this man and i might barely have philia left for all i know.

[sigh]

all that for "some other way"?
was it even worth it?
absolutely not.

it's a valuable lesson, i thank God for teaching it to me, and its one i won't soon forget.

word to the wise: let's turn all the 'i should have known better's into 'of course i did better's.

and let's always start now.

not interested in that kind of love

funny
what one person says and what another person hears can be totally different things, even with the same words. take the phrase, 'i love you,' for example.
over the past 4 weeks, i've received 'i love you,' several times: most recently, live and direct, in person... it felt like bliss. it was reciprocated: i loved in return.
what i heard when he said 'i love you' was that he loved me such that he wanted his love and was ready to finally have her after years of having had counterfeit. if his stated love were a metaphor, it would be a rushing river - rushing over treacherous rocks and through whatever path necessary just to reach his love. if his love met a cliff, it would create the most beautiful waterfall as a testament to his love...
however, his love revealed itself as more of a leaky faucet: drip, drip, drip. the path? pipelines. the current? one drip at a time. the testament? the journey from the faucet head to the sink...
as it turns out, i'm not interested in that kind of love at all.
when I say love, I speak in rushing river, waterfall terms.
my heart wishes he did too, but instead,
looks like i'm gonna have to build a
dam.

how did i fall so far so fast...

he told me he loved me over text message, and now, when i think about him, i just pray for God's help.
how did this happen?
i love him, so what; how did it get so deep all of a sudden?
all i feel is agony until i see him again.
all i want to do is hug and kiss him.
all i want to have are his arms around me, immediately.
all i want to be is with him.
all i am is sprung...
damn.

psychosis is a misplaced metaphor

so i watched tyler perry's 'for colored girls' today. it reminded me of a time when i was misunderstood. you see, at various times throughout the movie, the women would stare off into space and go off on these long soliloquies that made absolutely no sense, beyond the sense that it made because they had craziness going on in own their lives. beyond that, no sense at all.
take these women out of that backdrop, put them on a street corner with all their imagery and metaphors and they would be put away.
crazy is relative and psychosis is a misplaced metaphor.