I could do without the horny eighty year old men hitting on me.... Is it even possible to be horny at that age?

Hurting is a mixed concept. There is peace over the end of something, that, at times, hurt more than this. We were both going crazy. And crazy to do this to begin with? I am still crying. I have come to think that maybe that impulse simply will not go away. I will become a country song... for that I will also need to become and alcoholic and shop for lingerie at walmart. Not that I have anyone to wear them for... barefoot and pregnant is still a less than appealing thought.

The thought of a man who sees in me more than a potential wife and mother has my heart. I would much rather a friend, who ends up my husband and is always my lover. Otherwise I think I would rather die single in the jungles of Africa. It would be nice to die tragically... like curled over the body of a child, protecting it from danger. Not so much as to be remembered, but I simply think that going out should be as monumental as coming in. It should bear worth and memory. For what use? I am not sure I will entirely gain that understanding before eternity. Why am I convinced of eternity? Perhaps secular institutions have failed me. Or maybe the bible college did their brain washing. I doubt the latter. They did not like me much. “Erin’s a thinker.” ... I have been called worse by people I esteemed higher.

The greats were rejected.... as were the fools. So what set aside great people? I think it was that they choose risks beyond themselves for the sake of others. At least, the men I admire. There were some men considered great, but even Alexander the Great failed and life, dying in a drunken stupor before ever tasting sweetness of life. It must be possible to conquer all of your wildest dreams and live with a deep sense of dissatisfaction?.The classic christian response is that we should not be satisfied with this life, that our expectation is solely on the afterlife. Why? It seems quite useless to live if life is only gained later. I think Buddha was close here. He knew that self denial was key. When you are focused on your worries, desires, lusts and so forth, you will ultimately find longing deeper and emptiness greater. Like a flesh eating bacteria, simply living feeds it. Yet, I am far from convinced that man has the ability to remove desire from his life. It is a bit self defeating. One must desire to rid ones self of desire. And, I am quite sure, that desire is healthy.

I may also be biased in this assumption. There are moments in which I run from whim to whim. My emotions have a strong ability to carry me at times. And, at this moment, it seems desire can be best when tamed.

Recklessness bears existence because it has reason to be defined.

My heart, right now, cannot be the weight of my hope. I think, perhaps, I see what the psalmist meant when he said that the heart is deceitful and wicked. Sometimes the brokenness of the heart bears with it its own lies. There is not utter truth in my broken heart and lonelier nights. Lonely nights? My life has not born much change because his presence is no longer familiar to my life. Yet, his presence is familiar to my heart and mind. In that, I am not sure what to make of it. Other than... desire is sometimes best tamed.... and fear is shame to desire. Fear will destroy all sides of what is good... it will spawn, in it, desire of its own.... it will rid ones heart of truth. In the deepness of pain, I want to know truth. I want to celebrate pure desire, and seek what is good. In many ways I struggle to see the good in tomorrow or the day after. And that just may be it. My hope is not in tomorrow, or next year, or in eternity.... my hope is felt moment by moment. It is defined by pain, happiness, love, hate, fear, hope and more. We are defined continually. Though we may have much to gain in the future. Even hope for ultimately. It must not be the deterrent of the present. If it is seen as such, today will deny it of sweeter truths that would surely come by it.