What matters?
If it matters or not, it doesn't matter.
I sit, under the guise that I am "tired", and rage.

Sometimes, I am amazed at how much I struggle, and how much I don't show it.
Histronical Hannah.
But I go deeper.
I am not two dimensional... please
so please don't see the rest of the world on paper.

I struggle between humble acceptance, and indignified rage.
I struggle between gracious forgivness and power-endowing pettiness.
I struggle between polaric reactions, knowing that the I-should-have's would visit both. It's a lose-lose situation.
I struggle with knowing that the power and perfection I seek comes about through submission and sacrifice.
I struggle with knowing that I am self-centred to the point of self-dependency and that that is a manifestation of pride.

My perfection breeds deeper imperfection.

some issues are results of outright rebellion.
I see that everywhere I go.
In the war.
In politics.
In the church....

We're all rebellious at one point or another, it's almost a need, a pathway to greater growth.
Now that we've done that and sorted that out, shouldn't the issues cease to be and bring that journey to an end?
Rebellion shouldn't be a state, but a door to another level.

Some become excuses of the other.
*Hug*
I love the way you know, and are not afraid to speak.

I hate the way I hurt so easily. I can't even walk out of anywhere feeling alright.