Another poem. ("Crumble")

That pressure, pressure,
pressurepressurepresssurepressure....
collapse is imminent.
stack, stack, stack
the bricks.
paste
paste
paste
the Elmer's glue
mortar.
smear it all over
the walls.
they were built years ago,
Collapse is imminent.

built
built
built
on a foundation of sand.

the storm's been brewing
for months.
from this ocean to that.

On the outside,
the building is fine.
Built up strong,
and honest,
true.

take a step inside,
and see...

collapse is imminent.
Definite.
Devastation
if not torn down.
and built back up,
on stone with fresh,
new,
walls.

There's always a lot to say.

Sorry, everyone. I'm flighty and inconsistent, etc. You know me.

I'm just thinking. I've been thinking a lot. Too much, perhaps. On Friday, a rather enjoyable event occurred for me. I believe I may have gone on a date-type-thing. The young man in my Sociology class took me to the movie Tower Heist; fortunately, we both only considered it "okay". Which was awesome. His car was freezing before it warmed up when he drove me home, but he had some similarly "nerdy" likes, such as Avatar: The Last Airbender, and he has an affinity for post-apocalyptic literature which is really cool, in my opinion. So I think I might like him. Perhaps. I'm still figuring it out.

And at the same time, I had two to three disturbing dreams this weekend. And I didn't do my persuasive speech outline, even though the topic is utterly compelling to me and I chose it (educating the public about Mental Illness/Disorder). It was because the outline was late and I wouldn't get the ten points anyway. Motivation dropped. Wrong, yes, but unfortunately the truth.

I'm still struggling with motivation and procrastination, very much with procrastination. I haven't even kept on with NaNoWriMo, which is my favorite part of the writerly year. I wish to place my creativity in such endeavors as my story, Sunlight, but I find myself, rather, wanting to develop a trailer for the book, or storyboards at least in my sketchbook. Draw it rather than write it. Even though the story is not cinematic in the slightest. I always see it as one of those dramas that not many watch, but those who do, love it. It may be narcissistic, but it's the vision I have for the story.

The student ministry at school is failing, kind of. Well, not really. It's working.  Just not the way I saw it going. It's not big. We're not reaching a lot of people. And we couldn't make the big Catalyst Coalition event last Thursday, due to ride issues.

I still don't have my license. And I won't, at least until January or maybe December in California if my mom can arrange that. I don't even know how that's going to work.

And you know what's terrible?

Just the way we never notice what the heck other people are going through... I could write an entire post about that. I might do just that.

Otherwise, this weekend was great. The date-type-thing was pretty fun, and my dearest friends put on a fantastic play, "The Curious Savage". It was awesome.

Anyway, I'd say... I'm at a very uncertain point in my life. I pray all the time. But I usually vent or question, rather than praise. I feel guilty about it, but guilt isn't what should happen... Praise should come naturally, because God is worthy of praise. I know he can take my doubt and my questions, but I'm fearful in the fact that I believe, perhaps this is wrong, I'm not sure, that I should feel more assurance than doubt. And yes, feelings lie. Absolutely, they do. The human heart is a most dishonest thing. I'm having what those of my church might say is a "head-heart" issue. I should read my Bible more. I should listen to praise music and get closer and closer to God... but what I really, really feel, is afraid and like... well, as the past months of youth group have taught me, like a poser. I just don't know, half the time. I don't even know when I'm acting or being true anymore. Half the time, anyway. Which is even more confusing.

And at this point, I just want to go to bed. I don't want to do my homework, which is awful because it needs to be done. And I want to write NaNo, but I just... I want to sleep. I'd rather dream of Damir's awful life circumstances than this strange and common experience of identity confusion. Damir has identity confusion too, especially when all he defined himself by is taken away from him. It hurts to write it sometimes. I seem to draw new things from my own writing every week.

And I know exactly what Sunlight says about me. I don't know if I'd tell you, but if you asked... well... I guess I'm always up to talking about myself.

Those who pray: my friends are in great need of prayer, especially after loss and experiencing their own crises.

Thanks, all. God bless. You are all loved.

So I finally read "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" by Stephen Chobsky.

To start, I'll say that I took absolutely, way too long to read this book. It is a slim volume of 213 pages, written in a very simple and direct style, in the form of letters that read more like a diary, but very fitting to the protagonist, Charlie.

This book had been floating around in suggested books for me everytime I looked up anything on Amazon.com, and, like another fantastic novel (Thirteen Reasons Why), I took forever to actually read it, in spite of being interested in it for years. While I've eaten up other books I've procrastinated (such as the aforementioned novel), this one took me a while to get through. I can't really explain why, but I'll say this: this book is surprisingly layered for the style that it is presented.

I'll be honest, I doubted it as I paged my way through the first segments of the story. I thought that Charlie/Chobsky was doing a lot of "telling" and not "showing", and then the further I got in, the more I realized that the "telling" he was doing was very limited. Charlie has a way of distancing himself, and listening, and pondering, and although his words are uncomplicated (something that even he makes reference to near the beginning of the book), there is a lot of "showing" being done. This story manages to capture virtually all aspects of this teen's life. I'm not sure if I would exactly describe Charlie as a "wallflower", and though others may say that he learns to participate throughout the story, I would say that he is sort of participating throughout the entire novel, but in a much more... passive... way. But he is actually very active socially among his friends. It is simply fascinating, though, how much the story manages to say about family, friendships, and all sorts of relationships.

And that ending. I loved the ending. Mainly for the support that was shown by friends and family, and I won't expand on what occurs.

Regardless, I can see why this book is considered a modern "classic" coming-of-age story. I suppose this "review" is particularly vague. My personal summary (I think there are significantly better ones out there, but just in case...):

Charlie is very perceptive 15-year-old, who enters high school without his old friends and with little life experience. He keenly observes all those around him, and frequently ponders the circumstances in which they find themselves, as well as his own. His strengths lie in observation and reading only, until seniors and step-siblings Sam and Patrick take him under their wing. Through them, he begins to make deeper social connections and is swept into that "classic" high school world of sex, drugs, and "rock and roll"... not to mention the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Peering into Charlie's world with his sensitive eyes offers a very striking image of the high school life for an outsider thrust into the life of deep connection to others. And (as per the "coming-of-age" story), in this life, he begins to realize things about himself he never realized before.

I would say that Charlie is a very sympathetic protagonist. And sometimes his passivity is frustrating. Yet, when he does step up, his actions are strong. He is... just someone you wish was real. Someone you'd want as a shoulder, and someone you'd want to be there for.

Also, the '90's. Mixtapes and 'zines, guys. Mixtapes and 'zines.

All in all, I do recommend this book. Read it at least once. Then reread it to see if you can see anything else that you didn't before. I feel like it's a book that you could do this with.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is my favorite book now, because it was the last one I've read. ;)

Where the loyalties lie. (Poem-esque thing)

The deceptive smile,
the acidic gaze downturned.
What
she
said,
what
she
did.
Fight your own battles,
fight them, fight them,
don't keep quiet.
no maganamnity.

three or four hearts,
friends or foes or more or less.
tell her, tell him, tell them;
accept her
with all of your

grace.

Acts of betrayal,
still hot
on their hearts.

someone else may forgive,
but their clan won't forget.

gangs of the people,
rise up against one.

forgive, forgive,
they won't forget.

Shhh.
Keep quiet.

take the steps,
take the steps,
make mistakes,
and never forget.

because they won't let you.
Keep quiet, keep quiet.
secrets, secrets, secrets,
keep them, keep them.

don't ask.

secret judgement,
words untrue.

unforgivable or simply stigmatizing;
who deserves?

accept her with your grace.
never forget in your silence.

A polarizing figure.
where do your loyalties lie?

The problem of procrastination.

Today, I came home from school, and affirmed by the text of my friend not being home, I decided to take a nap.

In my bedroom, which is an awful location for a "quick nap". I ended up sleeping until sometime past five o'clock, thus destroying any chance of being productive, no matter what my plans were earlier that evening. The sleep was nice, but it was excessive.

After this, I ate dinner with my family, also nice. It also took an extended amount of time. I proceeded to take a shower. I had my clothes, put them on, turned on my laptop, and set all my bags of academic items around me.

As if simply having my backpack and college textbook bag next to me would motivate me. Instead, I told myself I would go check out that Relevant magazine article I'd been meaning to read...

Successfully killing another hour or so, with "30 Rock" going on in the background. Then Terra Nova in the background, though I wasn't paying attention; I was waiting for House.

After reading a few articles on Relevant, I went on Facebook. And proceeded to make a new status and make comments about wasting time, joking with my friend about how I waste more time than him. I called him to tell him how I was wasting more time than him.

We continued to correspond via Facebook, and I continued to jest with other friends on that Facebook status about Chronic Procrastination Syndrome.

I wonder if that could actually be classified as something. I have a problem. A very big problem.

Here are the things I need to do this week:
-Read chapters of psychology and sociology textbooks
-Read speech textbook pages and fill out questions
-Prepare for extemporaneous speech
-Prepare for PSAT/NMSQT (Wednesday)
-Get caught up for Psych/Soc due to absence on Wednesday
-Take psychology test
-Fill out discussion board posts for Psychology
-Write 300-350 word piece for Zumbro Education District writing contest by Friday
-Find application for next semester at college
-Figure out schedule for next semester
-Start on next psychology letter
-Start on psychology paper (although due in December; it'll come quick)
-Finish "The Perks of Being a Wallflower", in order to move onto another book
-Return some other books
-Read books from church library
-Do Sunday School homework BEFORE CLASS/before Saturday night
-Probably clean or something.
-Not spend all money before Thursday

That doesn't seem too hard for a WEEK... and yet...

.-. 

Does it ever end, guys? Procrastination. Does anyone have any suggestions as to how to stop this cycle? Other than... well... I guess I should start with actually doing things on time. Maybe a highly scheduled routine. I can't relax when I think of all these things I have to do, but I still do it. My schoolyear thus far has been significantly easier than last year, and that should not be.

Perhaps I should stop defining myself as a procrastinator.

But I sure look like I know what I'm doing to some people... I respond a lot in my classes (usually have my hand up and give responses), kind of show off, maybe... which is annoying... and I shouldn't do it... and somewhat interesting in English class considering we just went over a piece of Ben Franklin's Autobiography and he had some interesting things to say about people who present themselves as/are perfect. I'm far from it. I think I might be arrogant, especially since my parents tell me this every now and again, especially when it comes to driving. But that's another story.

Regardless, I'm just... very nervous. I know my future's in God's hands, and I know that I shouldn't be lazy ("God helps those who help themselves", thank you, Ben Franklin). But... I don't know. I feel... self-sabotage-y.

I should just shut and do something.

Well, thanks for reading my obnoxious thought process.

Me and males.

Why.

I mean, I'm trying... I'm trying REALLY, REALLY hard not to crush on anyone right now. And I'm maintaining REAL FRIENDSHIPS with guys for the first time... well, probably since I had hormones that went all "woooobooooooooyyys" back in like, fifth grade. Or so.

But guys like me. And they tell me they like me. And I don't want to tell them, "I'm sorry, but I'm trying not to date anyone this academic year! And I'm immature! And I'm probably going to end up liking someone else while dating you! And..."

I'm just a terrible person. T.T' I think... I know... I sound really full of myself right now. And quite mean. I know I hurt someone very badly this year, but we're just finally overcoming it.

And then someone else this summer (again) confessed his feelings for me. Someone I've never told you, the blogosphere, about. I don't really know what to code-name him. And he has a tendency to like me and a couple of my friends at certain times. And (again) I had to reject him.

And now a friend who's been chatting with me more lately on the internet likes me. And I rejected him too. I feel like the worst person ever, except, to be entirely honest... I just feel like I SHOULD feel like I'm the worst person ever.

I look back at my old blogs, and at all my stupidity with guys back then ("Jared" and "Mark" and such) I just... I don't know. I KNOW better now. But these are the nice guys. The really, really sweet ones. Who consider me just nerdy enough to talk to. Who confide in me and tell me about their lives and invite our friends and me to be in their movies, and who visit and buy things and say the nicest compliments...

There is literally nothing wrong with any guy (the exception being Jared) who has ever asked to date me/dated me. But I can't just say... gosh. I can't... I just... gahhhh. I think I'm making myself look like someone who's afraid of commitment. And maybe I am.

But for once, I've honestly kept myself from developing a hardcore crush on anyone for the longest time. I am making friends with people of the opposite gender, beginning to feel like I can confide in them, even. Maybe not to that point YET, but I'm beginning to see the majority of guys that I'm getting closer to, like I've always wanted, simply as human beings. Not people I want to date or kiss or go to dances with or make out in movie theaters with. Just as human beings with social desires like my own, with personal lives and interesting thoughts and who are just overall fun to hang out with and joke around with. Just people. Like girls. And even girls have been questionable to me, quite honestly. Interpret that as you will. Another post would likely be necessary to explain.

Regaardless, I'm just feeling pretty mean and awkward right now. I just wish things could work out like I wanted them to, for once.

How things are going. (The biggest ramble of rantly... almost randomness... ever.)

Well, I'm doing a little bit better than earlier. I can only hope that others are as well. I just want to thank you, one and all who read my blog(s). It's really amazing. Thank you so much.

So my life... I've begun to attempt to start a student-led ministry called Catalyst, based on the Catalyst Coalition, which started up in Blaine, Minnesota ( http://www.catalystcoalition.org/ ). It's a pretty sweet idea, and God's given me some confirmation about it. I told myself this was the year I'd be different. So that's my beginning.

But to be honest, I'm still not sure if I'm being "different" quite yet. I'm still procrastinating. I'm still not kind all the time. I'm still holding others at my high school at arm's length to some extent. I'm still... I don't know. I really just need to put this in God's hands. I feel simultaneously too comfortable and complacent as well as itching for a great and irreversible change to my life. In a positive way, of course.

Strange and random observation: I love being in resturaunts and cafes where people right next to me are on first or second dates and such, and are just beginning to know each other. It's oddly uplifting to me. As well as a little creepy, but I'm a professional eavesdropper... okay, not PROFESSIONAL, however... it's fun. To hear interesting people tell each other interesting things. I do hope that you don't all consider me a creepy person that you would never want at the next table in a cafe... but... um... yeah. And then have me write about you in my blog, as I sit a couple of tables away on my laptop. Dear. I must look very suspicious.

Well, since I'm going all "stream-of-conciousness" on you guys, I suppose I'll continue with my thoughts... procrastination is somewhat consuming my life, and I realize that it's wrong. As well as pride. I know it's a human thing, to want affirmation, to want to be praised, but I often wish for praise that does not belong to me--it belongs to my great Creator. My youth group is doing a series on "being a poser". And while I can't relate entirely to the examples given (trying to fit into a particular group at school, which my sociology book calls "anticipatory socialization", but this term is used more accurately in the context of adapting to certain behaviors in order to fit into a work group), I know where I pose. Sometimes I think I pose as a good person. I pose as a Christian girl who knows what on earth she's doing. And that's really not true, not true in the slightest. This is likely the explanation for why I felt so scared and thrown off when I felt identified as a leader back when people identified me as a leader.

And now I'm stepping up to the role, but I'm taking on pride and it's ugly and it's wrong. It's so hard to truly humble, easy to be insecure. So hard to be confident, but not proud. So much of me still needs to be changed.

In other "news" (not news, it's just my silly little life, which is as short as a vapor of wind... good ol' Ecclesiastes), I've been writing. Almost consistently. I've written two chapters of my story Sunlight. I'm up to five chapters. The other night was a very difficult night, and I intentionally made it worse for myself by watching the TAC Victoria accident videos (Australian traffic program... they are... effective... to say the least; check them out on YouTube if you are interested and send them to your SADD instructors and your driver's ed teachers if they don't have enough good material) and then LISTENING to them to my most serious playlist simultaneously. I cried several times. And in the car from home to youth group yesterday, I felt the narration of Damir within me.

If there's anything that I feel terribly comfortable and uncomfortable (in a good way) about, it is the obsession of a story. Story obsession is the only permissible obsession for me, as it gets me writing. It keeps me going. It's that drive I've been missing for so long, and it feels... it feels SO GOOD. I don't care how depressing my story chapters are, to be honest. One of my favorite quotes is by Mat Kearney, though in context is about the personal and genre-bending nature of his music, goes as follows:

"[When I set out to write,] I want to write something that will rip your heart out [and connect with you]."

I don't want to make people upset, but I want to connect with them. I want them to see something in my writing that they can take from it, something they can think about, some passage will not leave their mind, something, just... something. Something good. Some sort of hope, or some sort of emotion, some sort of thanks. I question whether the hopelessness of a story is truly a positive thing. When I read Living Dead Girl by Elizabeth Scott a while ago, I could not get the story out of my mind, all its futility, the unbelievable horror and grief within it. I could not understand why I read it. It was so effective, and I suppose the realism is its own value. While I recognize that my current story, Sunlight, is entirely different in content, it is still incredibly sad and hard to write.

But I don't permit myself any dishonesty. Whether or not it's happy. Gosh, coming from me... that's quite... abnormal. Wanting a bright spot in a sad story. Hope is... hope is something else. I don't think I can just intentionally through in a big glob of hope in a story like this. It's not entirely realistic. Then again, the kind of circumstances which occur may not be exactly realistic either, but... I'm getting there. Let me know if you have any suggestions.

Well, since I guess I'm going to keep rambling, in reference to that awkward passage about me eavesdropping, it feels pretty cool to be on a laptop in a coffeehouse. Or whatever this is. It's my teensy town, the place is CALLED "Better Brew Coffeehouse" but I've probably only ever been in one other coffeehouse (near Breckenridge, Colorado, and incredibly hipstertastic and full of organic goodness. Good thing I wasn't obsessed with hipsterdom back then.), so I don't really have much to compare it with. CONTRAST, yes, but not compare.

So the hipster place back in Colorado was awesome. And they had delicious mochas. Of course, Better Brew has delicious mochas too. And it is pretty nice--it has those cool eco-friendly cups that can be composted because they're actually made of corn. XD And it has free-trade, locally made coffee and teas. Supposedly there are gluten-free options around here, but I guess you'd have to ask about them. There's a raw sugar dispenser.

The only odd thing about it are the mismatched tables and the couch and chair in the corner, and the random pictures up, and the unfinished painting on the wall. But it's cute. And homey. I think it's really the demographics that get me--in the morning, the tiny parking lot is all filled up with trucks, and a whole bunch of 60+ farmer dudes come in and have some funtiemz conversations. And then more older people (women, men, everyone) come in. And only a few businesslike people pop in and grab a coffee, then leave. A couple of averagely aged people (40's or so) sit down, usually women. Some have laptops. I and the two dudes from my Catalyst group were the only adolescents in the entire place. Now I'm the only adolescent, but a 20's or so woman now sits at the next table on her laptop, presumably studying. Or procrastinating like me.

When I went into the Colorado hipstercoffeeplace, there weren't really any people in there. But it could've just been the time of the morning. It was a small town like mine, but you really can't compare Pine Island to a small town in the mountains in Colorado... they had BLUEGRASS FESTIVALS. With people selling fancing stone-made trinkets from all over the place, many of them based in Native American tradition, as well as just some others around. They actually HAD places to... you know, get fancy pretty stones that were beeeautiful. Pine Island just has corn fields. And a cheese factory. I mean... that's pretty much nothing compared to mountain-town with the naturey, fit people of that town. I don't exactly remember the name of it, but... gosh. I kind of wish I was there now. I bet it's beautiful this time of year. *sigh*

Anyway, my town's pretty nice too. Just not as environmentally friendly and hipster/hippie-stereotypical as that one. You can just drive through my town, though. You kind of have to go up mountains to get to the one in Colorado. That was a good time in my life, the Colorado trip.

I guess I'd better get done with this... I do hope you enjoyed/got something out of reading this. Feel free to comment. Or not. That's fine too. I'm sorry for being... obnoxious.

Jesus and I love you all. :) Have a nice day!

To: God

Dear Lord, I have just no idea how to react when things like this happen. I know that You love us. I know that You are there, You are graceful, You are compassionate. You are Creator. So powerful, yet so relational. I know that. I wonder if I practice that knowledge sometimes. I recognize that I don't always.

But over and over and over, You know I've struggled with this so many times, You and the readers know. Why God, do you let these things happen? These deaths? The universal question. Why do bad things happen to good people? And all those readings of Job...

Maybe I've been reading it wrong, I admit that could be the problem. God, I realize that You... You are so far, so FAR beyond my limited human understanding. So far beyond it. I guess that's it.

Lord, I grieve with them tonight. But this... this I just can't understand. After all he's already lost, after this period of celebration, after seeming so happy and then... you just give him this? God, why? Why, God? With all he has to do right now? With all the caring he has for You and Your people? Your children? Your people's children? How...?

God, I just don't understand. I just don't. I don't want to doubt You or lose You. I'm sure that the one he lost is doing very well in Heaven, very happy, very content. And I'm very glad about this, I can celebrate that. But I canNOT look at it the same way from down here.

He was young. He had kids himself, God! Why are you letting this happen to them too? To this family? That's already been through enough? Is there ever "enough"? I just... no, no one deserves it, and I don't know if You're testing them or something, and I really have absolutely no right to write this. None.

But why, God? I just... I just won't understand, I suppose. I'll grieve with those who grieve, have joy with those having joy. But there's a lot of sorrow here, God. Our lives really are just swept by the wind. There is so much sorrow, God. I know you're weeping with them. But so much sorrow. So much grief. So much loss.

Today.

The video in the link above, and here:



reminded me of what this day is really about. I talked a lot today. About things that mattered, but they were abstract concepts and goals I planned on reaching. But this makes them real. It makes everything real, as it is. Painful and filled with loss, and those words of never forgetting, of praying, for those experiencing loss, become more genuine now. I wish I could have cried, but never have I felt more moved to do something about these lives we live than at this moment now.

Above all, let us not forget to love.

Tomorrow.

"Is it more mature
To reflect
on self
or bigger concepts?
Is it more important
to learn from personal experience
or from the history all around you?
A look in the mirror
or the sound of gunfire from every generation.
What meaning can we extract
from everything
our senses perceive?
The private tragedy,
The public outrage,
a friend's rebellious word,
a world leader's command?
Who are we
what right have we
to judge
or to question?
What right have we not,
to judge
or to question?
Right and wrong
are different.
Depending on where you are.
Black and white,
a muddled gray.
Left is right,
right is left,
up is down,
down is up.
Distracted by aesthetics.
Distracted by the trivial.
Slam our faces in reality,
Escape into fantasy.
Defense mechanism.
What is real
what is not?
no.
direction.
But
there is.
even if that Direction
is often
denied.

Doubt comes easy
with all that's around us,
but there's the beauty
rising from ashes.
The Constant
that keeps us,
from going insane.
when everything else
threatens to topple us
all
to the ground.

How do we grow?
What makes us grow the most?
the fires that burn and make the soil fertile."

-poem from my Stories and Other Writing blog, 5/30/2011

Tomorrow, as many of us are aware, is the tenth anniversary 9/11/01, a day that is forever seared into American history, and the memory of all who were alive on that day. It is one of the many tragedies that occurred, a national tragedy, an internationally known event, something that sparked many more like itself, and it was not only a tragedy to a nation... but to individuals. To families and friends and families and friends who would later lose loved ones in events related to this one.

I can't help but think of loss in general, and how it is all around us, every single day. How every human being either is, or will be, personally effected by the loss of a loved one through death sometime in the future. I can't help but think of all the people I know who have experienced that sort of loss, and of all the strangers who are experiencing it right now. Grief and pain and shock and ache and I can't possibly imagine what they are going through. How it may dull over time, but never go away. Survivor's guilt. Anger. All those stages, the bargaining... how hard it must be to reach "acceptance". I simply cannot imagine it. Right now, reading memorials and tributes to a person I likely never met, considering what an incredible person this person seems to have been, I almost wish I would have known him. Had I seen him before? Probably. I never knew him, though. But I know people who did. He was so young... so full of... life and potential and compassion and wit and intelligence... and yet, no one knew his true thoughts.

And the man who was lost when I was in sixth grade, whose funeral I really shouldn't have been at. Who inspired a poem of mine that many years ago. I think of my other friends who have experienced much worse, for their friends, for their family, their families...

I think of how such loss connects so many people. I can't even begin to fathom the pain that comes from the sort of loss endured by those I know. All I know is guilt. And the shame that comes from my selfishness. I know of my anger and doubt and questions to God over why... why He lets these things happen. I know He cares, I know He loves us, I know He's there, and that He has a bigger, better plan than I could possibly imagine, that will make all work out for good. I shouldn't have trouble knowing this. I think of all these people I pray for, as they endure the things they endure. I think of these great, incredible people, who are experiencing these terrible, terrible things, and I just have to wonder... why. I've gotten the answer so many times, but I keep on asking.

So today, tonight, tomorrow, and every day after that... I should tell you all to take a moment and think. And pray. To never forget, but I don't expect that you will. To forgive, even though it's nearly impossible as a human being on one's own. I suppose I should tell you to dream about peace and make it accomplishable.

Life is so short and so fragile and so hard to know about. People are so layered and complex and they simply aren't as they seem. I should tell you all to advocate for those who are struggling with loss in a certain way, and I will. I should tell you all to be there for others, that we can make this world a better place. I do. I tell you all these things.

I will tell you that Jesus loves us all, and that God made this world, and that He has a bigger plan. And in my heart, I've found this to be true. But I will not tell you that anything is easy. Or that we'll ever find a way to avoid death or pain. I will not tell you not to feel angry or bitter, or grieved, or to dwell on the pain that you have. I'm not telling you, reader, to listen to everything or anything that I have to say, or to do as I do, or to believe as I do, really.

I am reflecting on these events. And I'm finding it hard to come up with answers, or to believe in my whole heart that these answers are true, even though I know in my spirit and soul that they are. My mind and my heart and my human nature find it so hard to believe it.

I will tell you, friends, to reflect on what I've said. To know that there is hope. That God has a bigger plan. That there are great people in this world, and all of them, including ourselves, are going to meet death one day, in some way or another. I pray that we don't give up hope.