I remember when things were different. Seems like almost a completely different lifetime, perhaps someone else's story. A story put together by the all the hopeful particles of the heart. The particles formed from dreams, movies, fairy tales even. Is that fair? This world makes us believe that one day things should be perfect. This world makes us believe that if the dreams of such pure children are to never come to life, that somewhere we went wrong. Is that fair? You see I've never been anything different than a dreamer. My earthly father chooses to describe my lack of structure as "full of life". What life am I full of? The life of the child still hopeful, whom still exists in my soul ? Might I be full of a life that has no destination... is that fair? My every emotion vibrating from my heart, forming thoughts and decisions in my mind, only creating more dreams. Maybe these dreams will one day come true or maybe that's all that they were ever created to be, but... is that fair? God you said that if I were to delight my whole self in you, that you would grant me the desires of my heart, but I'm constantly fighting a battle against a man who hates you and I so you must see that I'm tired and at times confused, but is that fair?
"Be still, daughter. Be still."
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