I remember not too long ago when I thought I knew what doubt and fear really were. When I thought that financial struggle meant not being able to afford that top that I had seen on American Apparel, or that journal that I didn't need quite yet but thought was fabulous and wanted it anyway. A time when they called me a child, and I called them deranged. When I was sure I had reason to fuss and fume about all the "hardships" I was being faced with.
OH, how naive. How terribly and sickeningly naive.
I now face a paycheck of only four hours for two weeks, a paycheck meant to live off of for the weeks to come but will barely feed me for a day. I have sixty five cents in my bank account, an electric bill unpaid, and only a quarter of a tank of gas. And I have to say I think I've gotten there, I've come to the point where worry is sticking to my bones its bled so deep, and uncertainty has made me severely ill.
But I cling to what a good friend once told me. He sat there and looked so deep into my eyes I could feel it in my toes and told me to fall apart, and let the beautiful broken pieces I have left piece me back together.
Maybe this will be the final straw. Maybe this time I really will crash and burn.
Maybe, just maybe.
"Oh, the clouds they brought a darkness and a hard rain's gonna fall,
And all my laughter ends in emptiness and a hard rain's gonna fall.
My every medicine causes more illness and a hard rain's gonna fall."
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
mon amour
mon frére.
mes soeurs
Now your head, excuse me, is empty.
I have the ticket for that.
Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.
Well, what do you think of that?
Naked as paper to start
But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,
In fifty, gold.
A living doll, everywhere you look.
It can sew, it can cook,
It can talk, talk, talk.
It works, there is nothing wrong with it.
You have a hole, it's a poultice.
You have an eye, it's an image.
My boy, it's your last resort.
Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.
mon amour
mon frére.
mes soeurs
Posts
1 comment:
And please, dearest Lolly, cling to what a good friend told me.
He told me not to worry about my life, what I will eat or what I will drink, nor about my body and what I will put on. He told me that He will clothe me more than He clothes the grass of the field.
He told me not to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things.
He told me I had little faith.
Because worry is the most common form of unbelief.
Worry is the opposite of faith.
And please, dearest Lolly, do not forget the talks we have, and the good things that come from them. Because what good are talks if nothing comes from them? The life that grows reflect the roots that were formed. So live, friend. Be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that brings forth its fruit in its season, whose leaf also shall not wither; And whatever you do shall prosper.
Post a Comment