i bought four cans of spaghetti sauce again.
pasta is a dollar a pound.
in 23 minutes i can have a quick, cheap meal.
i used to enjoy the cutting and the dicing,
the spices, herbs, and oils all mixing together to create a harmonious sort of beauty, one that you taste fully on your tongue.
i bought salmon a couple of months ago.
it’s still in the freezer.
what use is art that remains hidden?
what good is food with no one to share it with?
it’s not much fun to make good food for a party of one, to be honest.
i’ve felt a certain lack in my words lately, and it’s not that they’re bad, or even completely useless.
i guess i’ve just realized the stronger desire to “be”, and not just talk about it.
there are some things you can only learn about a person when neither of you is talking but there’s a certain peace in it all.
there is safety in that sort of silence.
sometimes i just talk because no one else is and i don’t have anything to say, really, except for some really deep, troubling stuff, and i honestly don’t think most people want to hear it so i say some stupid jokes, a couple of funny stories and a few side quips.
there’s a wall in my room that knows more of me than most of my friends.
maybe that’s okay.
maybe that’s good.
tears flow pretty easily lately.
it always feels good.
i don’t know if it should.
and it’s not that life is bad.
it’s just not what i thought it would be.
and some older, wiser person might say “that’s life for ya.”
those are the worst kind of people.
i’m not interested in what has been, or even what always has been.
i’m interested in what can be.
maybe even what should be.
i discovered that i don’t receive love easily, if at all.
that was an interesting discovery.
maybe i should tell my therapist about it.
the only problem is, my therapist is the steering wheel to my 2002 jetta.
it listens well.
i wouldn’t even know what to tell my therapist, if i had one.
one hour, ha.
i would need a thousand.
i don’t want another ear to listen, i want a shoulder to rest on.
but america isn’t comfortable with non-romantic affection.
that’s probably why we’re so overly-sexualized and still gasping for intimacy.
Jesus is really, really my best friend.
sometimes the corniest things are the truest ones.
maybe that’s why we make fun of corny things.
they challenge our insecurities and remind us why we’re still so obsessed with self-image.
he’s actually really funny, and genuinely cares for each of his kids.
it might sound funny, but that’s pretty much my sole aspiration in life now.
to learn how to be one of God’s kids.
it just might change my life.
it just might set me free.