On Regretting Feeling Sorry for Myself

I fell asleep on the carpet this afternoon while organizing the lit review for my dissertation. The sweet melodious sound of Carter Burwell filtered through my headphones, and I lay beneath my window and faded off into a dream where I didn’t pine away after someone who doesn’t even know I exist, but when I awoke the pain of an unrequited love story made Burwell sound like noise and my floor feel like a bed of nails. But then I looked around, remembered all of the good that exists in my world, and chastised myself for the self pity that crept in through the cracks of feeling lonely, and misunderstood. 

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On Stuff Finally Making Sense

I’m who I am and where I am for purposes to make me better and take me higher. But all of it is to glorify God. I took a drive today and it just sorta clicked, ya know? πŸ˜‰πŸ˜˜βœŒπŸΎοΈ