— C.S. Lewis
Oh, to dream so big…
#AmWriting (Taken with instagram)
Sometimes, I just want to pinch his cute little cheeks… But he doesn’t like it much when I do that. (Taken with instagram)
I just can’t help myself.
I read to learn and to grow, to laugh and to be motivated.
I read to understand things I’ve never been exposed to.
I read when I’m crabby, when I’ve just said monumentally dumb things to the people I love.
I read for strength to help me when I feel broken, discouraged, and afraid.
I read when I’m angry at the whole world.
I read when everything is going right.
I read to find hope.
I read because I’m made up not just of skin and bones, of sights, feelings, and a deep need for chocolate, but I’m also made up of words.
Words describe my thoughts and what’s hidden in my heart.
Words are alive—when I’ve found a story that I love, I read it again and again, like playing a favorite song over and over.
Reading isn’t passive—I enter the story with the characters, breathe their air, feel their frustrations, scream at them to stop when they’re about to do something stupid, cry with them, laugh with them.
Reading for me, is spending time with a friend. A book is a friend. You can never have too many.
An amazing way to spend the afternoon. Every person on earth should read this book. (Taken with instagram)
Samson
Life is interesting.
It’s odd how it’s possible to be happy and stressed and depressed and blissful and blessed all at the same time. Only the most complicated of beings could possibly achieve that kind of inner mayhem…
How is it that I can have so much and yet still have so much yet to accomplish? Why do I feel like my brain is constantly engaged and I’m growing and becoming, but I feel so aimless sometimes? Then when I feel emblazoned with purpose, something happens to delay my achievement, and I’m left in limbo again?
There are times I stop myself, and times outside forces stop me, and often enough it’s both simultaneously.
I have no room to complain, and I don’t think I’m really complaining… just contemplating. I believe that everything happens for a reason and a purpose, often one that I’m not privy to until quite later on when it’s usually no longer an issue. And that’s okay; I don’t need to know everything.
Only I wish I knew enough to not have my own special mixture of depression and elation combined with gratefulness that equals total conflict. But life is about conflict, I know that much.
I wish I had better patience and stronger faith. Then I wouldn’t have the turmoil and the wondering about all the little things that aren’t in my control. It’s so pointless and pre-occupying and draining.
And yet, here I am.
