Why can't we all have such a simple love story?
We all start out with broken hearts, or if we don't, we start with hearts too whole to truly understand and be willing to forgive.
Huntington is very quiet, especially when you are the "soft, cute, feel-good features" writer according to your editor.
I miss Joie a lot tonight. Being with her for the past couple of days non-stop was great. But now, her pink happy self is everywhere, including my office, and she is not. I wish she still was. I wish they both were.
How do you tell someone that they were and are everything you never knew you had? And how do you tell someone else that they weren't and are not what you need, but are still sort of partly what you want, but aren't wanted enough?
I forgot how to write. I forgot how to love. I forgot how to love myself.
I can never be myself. How can I when I'm stuck in hell?
It's funny to me that I can always seem to find all my thousands of work notes, but the one time I'm desperate to find the notes I took in church today, I can't see them anywhere.
Basically the part I really needed to hear was "There is value in what is lost." The shepherd left his flock to find the one lost one... because it held worth to him. There is worth in the lost. And if I am the lost, there is worth in me. I don't want the worth anyone else sees. I want him to see that worth. I don't know that he ever will, but I wait. He has been my knight many times before.
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