I think existing is giving me a headache

When you're probably doing so poorly in mental health that you can't finish reading two articles to present on them the next day..
Not sure how long I can keep this up.

I go through hours and days and hours and days
they turn to weeks and weeks and weeks and then a month
and months

but everyday it's almost as if I have to drag my heart across the floor;
it's like that when you're in a place you know you don't belong
where you sense acutely that your time here is expiring
maybe you are expiring too - a goopy puddle long past its prime

I count from every week to weekend to weekend to weekend to
the end.

times and days like this that actually make me miss home more than ever
your sights your sounds your smells
how could I describe it? the notion of what I precisely miss evades me

but I am here in a land that I hardly know
even on beautiful and quiet days like these
I know it is time to go soon
enough?

the road seems too long.
even then, not my will, but yours
Father.

太累了，只想回家。
只想
听到
辛苦你了。
太辛苦了。

Are we stumbling along parallel paths?
It's like the frigid wind from the snowstorm today, blowing in my face that I could hardly open my eyes in it.
Is this just a cruel cruel joke?

But do not try to problem solve me. And I'm sorry to everyone that I did that to, and to whom I am still doing. I am trying to grow out of this, really.

miss ya
miss music

that's all

It's been weeks now since the last tears fell.
The days surge forward relentlessly. Keep paddling, keep treading the water, else be pulled down by the current ...? I'm barely making it, I know.
Or am I just being dramatic? This was hard to expect, hard to prepare for, hard even to really apprehend it and stare it in its face.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
I must be missing something here. How long till the end? How long till light? Is this, now, the kingdom of heaven, too? Teach me, Lord. I need to understand.

In the darkest night of the soul, who is there for me? This question near taunts me, and threatens to obscure what I have always preached and believed - Jesus is there, Jesus is the hope, him alone, the anchor for our souls. Even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, your rod and staff, they comfort me. The Lord is my shepherd, the Lord is my shepherd. But I am also just trying to be honest. Honest about the reality of my brokenness and my weakness. Honest about my heart's longing and seeking and pining.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

maggy and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
its always ourselves we find in the sea

E. E. Cummings