Social networking only carries so much of the skeletal words we speak. We speak a dead language that breathes no life save by the Grace to which we are able to take hold of in faith and be shone through, and taught to fail better each time.
— Ernest Hemingway (via herkindoftea)
As a river rises so has my mind been coming back to me these past three years. Everyone keeps asking me what is wrong, or if I am okay, and I suppose I am, lets just call this guinness book worthy delayed reaction times.
"Don’t hold me down" emblazoned upon her flesh, but the anchor was herself. You play blameless, but you are not God. We are all like everyone else. Far shorter do we fall than we acclaim to the Love we barely know, and the cross we are called to bear neglected for the exhancge of the temporal.
I remember the smell of tobacco on my fingers, drinking so much but I drove home so straight, higher than a kite and I’d crash all day. I remember when a smoke seemed to keep so much at bay, but every night I was haunted by what I ignored each day. So many people around, but the deep talks never picked up the stones at the bottom so the river always rose and ran me down.
She was hanging all over me, and yeah she was drunk, and yeah I was more concerned for her safety⸺if she was alright, but having someone throw their arms around you like that was nice, even if it was a lie.