blah–Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest (22 September, "The Missionary’s Master and Teacher")
Lots of darkness in me the last few days; it's made writing difficult and unappealing. Tired of confrontation and conflict, which has been almost a constant on every relational front. It's me, I think. No malice in any of it, on any side, which is something to be thankful for. Just disconnection. People don't see the world like I do. Sometimes I get frustrated with that. And sometimes I just run out of steam.
No real worries from work, which is nice. In a pretty productive zone. That keeps people from seeing when I'm struggling, and that's probably just as well. Don't have it in me to try to explain myself or hold anyone's hands– either they get it or they don't. I know that's crappy, but I can't give what I don't have.
Another high school friend tracked me down via the net today. Word must be spreading. Hearing from them is more and more strange, and I'm just realizing why. The future is a different place than I expected, and I didn't expect the possibility of any of those relationships to continue. It's complicated.
Kobe Bryant just sent me spam. Doesn't he have enough to worry about?
I'm hopeful for tomorrow, because it's another day.
