It’s a curious situation I find myself in.
I am moving on, slowly but surely, even though I felt like dying a million times last night. I think it’s probably one of those Phases that teenagers go through once or twice, like chicken pox (though I never did get chicken pox. Losers!), and it’s cool to know that that’s one less time I’ll have to handle something like this.
Forgiveness is hard, and forgetting is harder. I am by nature filled with indignation and complaint. Give me the short straw and I’ll yell and pinch everyone in a 10-metre radius. Metaphorically. But I am also a romantic, which is why I may never forget this chapter in my infinitely long chronicle.
I’m sorry if I’m uncharacteristically cryptic here. It was never my intention to be one of those people who go all “sianz… i nvr thot itll be dis way…. dun leave miiiiiiiii” every day (with little variation in mood and diction), because it gets old and I hate bad spelling. It warrants a blogpost, but being of a rather sordid nature I don’t feel right explaining it to people who barely know me (back off, fanbase!).
I thank God for friends. It’s one of those moments where you feel worthless and surprisingly weightless and inconsequential, and when God is busying around with other cosmic affairs He sends people down to comfort you, to give you e-huggles and e-snuggles. In spite of myself I need to be around people, but I’ve never talked to someone as freely before. I’m still learning how to trust.
I think I’ve handled this blogpost rather well. I’ve pruned it of the angst that made me feel big and unrestrained, and I’m learning to rely on God again, one baby step at a time.