i didn't write this, but conor oberst did. and my youth will forever be attributed to him.
"and morning will come,
in all it's simple glory.
and you will find the light.
and i will be there,
standing in your shadow,
knowing that you once were mine.
all mine."
i find myself attributing myself to others lately.
am i not my Own?
is my own Self something that i cannot contain?
where do i find my Self? in books? in the bible? in others? in the physical? in nature? in God?
in this melancholy?
i am not unique.
i am a product of everyone i have ever met.
they have molded themselves into me. to make me better.
i am the combined spirit of music and realness and love.
i find myself most content with a beer in my hand and a moon in the sky, in a room with only one lamp, and still i am not complete. God show Godself to me every day whether by action or revelation - that is something i can neither explain or deny. but God is there. powerful, strong, and mighty. concocting my life into the perfected numbness i find myself in day to day. oblivious to others, content swimming in my own sea of maddening thoughts and writings and dreams.
oh to write and to write of the things i know but cannot speak or spell.
but i say them to God, and God hears and knows. and God makes it.
God makes it all whole.
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