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. 


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