Because...? Ha!

Today gave me a lot of thinking time. A jack-knifed semi through the center median blocking traffic in both directions provides ample time for extensive thought processes. The number one thing I took from it: it is impossible to hate someone who you are happy for. Despite this statements many connotations, it means something I never realized until now: it is impossible to hate me when I am happy for me. Wow.

Without indifference to the crappy feelings I've been submerged in lately, I think my head is finally above water and I am nearly gleeful at the turn-around I have made. I am THRILLED that I am apparently still on track with where God is leading my life, and that feels pretty awesome. I look around me, and it's only blue skies and butterflies (literally, it hasn't rained here in weeks). I don't know what the future holds, but I am not frightened anymore. To place the worth and weight of my entire future on the shoulders of another is unfair and impossible. Yet sitting here, supposedly on my own, I feel as if the burden has lightened and I can breathe again. I am no longer trying to wrap tomorrow's uncertainty up within someone else's dreams; He knows where I belong, He is above and beyond time, and He is more than happy to take some of this heaviness off my back.

I don't know who I'm writing for anymore. I used to write strictly for myself, back in high school. The best of my creativity was always hidden away only for me. Lately, as in the last year or so, it's been more public and a part of the old me died. In that period, I found myself "directionalizing" my thoughts toward a person or an event or a mass. There is no person anymore, there is no event that loves on me the way I love on it, and there is no collection of followers to keep this up for. So what is my purpose? Have I lose it?

I am finally writing for me again. This is not about a reaction or a revealing or a convincing or a convicting. This is me. And seeing as I cannot hate myself, it seems that I am stuck with this version of me for awhile. I am not disappointed; I am elated by the idea of simply writing for me. That doesn't mean that I don't want others to be privy to my thoughts...that's the exciting part. I just want the freedom to write what I write and be thrilled with myself, for no other reason than because