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Hello Sunshine ./ Jocelyn. There is a God who loves me. Psalm 73:25-26 ./ Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Archives /
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Little wonders do I simply pass in and out? a sojourner with no p... Learning to speak Playing music truly makes me happy. It's gotta be ... For Martha Some goodbyes are filled with much fanfare, and mu... I think existing is giving me a headache When you're probably doing so poorly in mental hea... I go through hours and days and hours and days the... Journeying to the sun Credits /
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//Wednesday, February 22, 2012 10:15 PM
Epilogue
When the dust settles and things start to refocus back in our field of vision;
When the tears have been shed and all the emotions spent; When peace has been made and the 'sorry's said May we all live happily ever after. From death you bring life. You always do, You always do.
//Monday, February 20, 2012 9:58 PM
Light
So let hope rise and darkness tremble
//Thursday, February 16, 2012 4:25 PM
Sleep and smiles
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17 My God is light, my God is forever. My God is joy, my God will never change. I know that there is so much more than this, I know that you will pick me up every time I fall, and I know that there is beauty in the broken. Restore unto me the joy of my salvation, And I will lift my voice up in the festal shout, To sing unto you a new song, For I have been lifted up, For I have been lifted up. You are my miracle maker.
//Tuesday, February 14, 2012 6:57 PM
Please don't do this to me, not now, not now.
Gasping for air. I'm sorry :(
//Thursday, February 09, 2012 9:28 PM
Lines
The world is made up of lines. There are the thick, harsh ones, those drawn with block markers and traced over a few times, hard. There are the inked ones, plainly visible, pressed down firm by the tip of a pen. There are the the grey ones, pencilled in, a little smudged with the end fading off, but still there nevertheless. And there are the imaginary lines, the lines that are not easily visible, but the lines that we draw in a complex diagram all around ourselves. Some are carefully stencilled in, some hurriedly drawn. But there are a few that are there, getting fainter over the years, occasionally retraced. These are the lines drawn by habit, and sometimes, grey. Yet lines are merely deliberate borders. What really exists, are the spaces. Ever heard about reading between the lines? Yeah. The world is made up of s p a c e s .
//Tuesday, February 07, 2012 9:29 PM
3
and said I'm sorry sorry sorry.
//Monday, February 06, 2012 10:31 PM
What happens when we both run out of words to say?
What happens when I no longer feel? What happens when I no longer want to be around? Because I am tired. Because I cannot bring myself to just brush it off any more. Because it looks like there will come a day where I will tell you 'This is where I leave you.' You have no idea how much. Will there be anyone left by the end? How many will I lose like that? What is real? I am not real. Not now.
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