Maximillian Amadeus Banzai (banzai) wrote,
Maximillian Amadeus Banzai

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At dinner Sunday, Heather took the conversation in a direction that stumbled into part of my own convoluted history. She and Nate didn't really know what they'd hit or why, like stubbing one's toe in the dark. The moment passed quickly, but sometimes these moments are beginnings. If anything, it's a reminder that, even in my most normal relationships, the threads of the rest of me can be pulled. That doesn't bother me overmuch; alongside everything else, it points to the hope of wholeness one day, if not on this side of heaven, then certainly on the other.

My friend journeyto wrote today that LiveJournal makes her laugh. Though I enjoy the medium and my friends here, that hasn't been my experience lately. I've been getting overwhelmed at how many much scary and wrong stuff I have access to—more than I can bear. Yet I look, over and over, like a rubbernecker at a pileup. Sometimes I just want a set of blinders to make up for my own lack of self-control. And sometimes I wonder if, like me, my emotions are finite, and if they are, whether I'm doing my life and those in it a disservice by not spending more of them on flesh and blood. Even so, my friends here weigh heavily in the "pro" column; I just need to consider how to be more wise in where I venture beyond that.

Not that big of a deal at the end of the day. The world really is in good hands, and so am I.

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