Late night bus rides.
My mind drifts as I watch the Abby city Lights.
Each moment a reminder that i’m lonely.

I use to view myself as such a small being.

Now i see me in the proof of God all around me.
And over Skype calls I find his peace.
And i see his divine creation in her smile.

And her teaches me though lessons through her.
And I need to show him I can still walk in his light through hurt.

I hope my wording moves her spirit.
I hope to be her anchor when the tropical storms visit.
The power needs to be in Gods hand when the broken records start spinning.
Im tryna break the cycle of bad decisions.

Im trying fill the holes where there are pieces missin.
Reaching to save all the passions and moments that got wasted in 2023.
And vowing to make it up to myself this next year.

The love I hold is rare.
Im rare too.

She’s God’s proof.
Proof of everything.

I’m grateful for the image of himself that he crafted in Her.
I waste so many rough drafts with words that heal all my cuts.

I know im broken and bruised up.
I leave whats for God for God.
And i take the healing that’s mine and move forward.
Spending my heaviest nights listening to Foreward.

And sending my prayer to her domain for her.

For we.
For us.

I'm trying to hold a safe space for a healing heart.
And share her burden on my sore shoulders.

I’m nothing in the biggest picture.
She was hand plucked from heavens court.
She was born amongst the stars.
Of course a celestial walking amongst humans may have found the journey hard.

Coding what i feel into healing words.
And toasting to peace as i experience destruction.
I know i will be led through every obstruction.

And that these words maybe aren’t my own.
But speak through me even if the message gets lost along the way like childhood games of telephone.

Breathless at the way this shit flows.
And that it still helps with recovery.
And I like the idea that you may get to meet another me.

The version that would be thriving and glowing.
Not the same old damage being that life had grown bored of you knowing.

There were times were i had to scrape faith from the bottom of the barrel.
And times when my belief would overflow.
Is it wrong to say im at 70% when in my heart of hearts i know

That running in blind is a terrible way to go.

Beautiful Waste.

There has to be some beauty it the harshest lessons. Maybe the beauty is in the new version of reality I am able to exist in. The new boundaries I know i will never allow to be broken. The newfound ability to stand up for myself. I’m done being life’s doormat. I’m done giving and not receiving. I’m done living beneath what I deserve. And I’m starting to stand strong on all that I’m worth. And I’m starting to dust of the pieces of me that were packed on the shelf. The pieces I needed to address to become whole again. I also patch back together all the damage this year done me. And realize I can still be myself through it all and that’s beautiful. But believe me it gets hard. Thinking about how dumb I am. All the pain I carry on my own. Knowing i’ve hit the end of of some of my most cherished roads. I barely make it through some nights.
Sometimes my journal feels like all that i’ve got. But i don’t forget all the strength that God lent me. I don’t forget the moon in my night sky. But who else but these pages actually knows me? Who else actually cares for me? Who else wants me to grow? Who else loves me the way I deserve and stands on that? Who else refuses to judge me at my lowest…
There really does need to be a connectedness to all thats around me for me moving forward. Gratitude for the great design. Trust in God’s lessons and his timing. Trust that i can make it through. Trust that I’m loved. I question my place often. I question what it is that God really wants from me. I question my purpose. I question why … well I’ll leave the rest for me and the journal and my iphone notes. Happy to leave this year behind. Happy for the new slate each day gives. I’m happy for the journal receiving me with open ears. Lonely Dave signing out.