true fiction.


Fiction, as of late, has been easier for me to write. There’s a part of me that loathes it, and a part of me that loves it. Because I can write about love, or rather, the loss of it. And maybe it’s a part of the healing in learning to love people. Or it’s my angsty teenage attitude arriving six years too late.

And as I write, I find that longing is beautiful. Brokenness is beautiful. I’m still learning to give my mind permission to believe it about myself.

I feel like I pulled out a map of a 500 mile journey with only two days to walk it. Overwhelmed. Frustrated. Confused, even. The changes I want to happen so fast are the changes that happen so slowly.

At the same time, everything is slowly changing. I can feel it. But I can’t see it. I still have faith.

And that longing for what I thought was hope is instead a seek of love. I understand that now. And I look all around me, at people and places, but I cannot find what I am looking for.

But when I pray, a spark lights in me like never before. When I pray, I feel a fire burn within me, a match being lit by an eternal flame. Every part of me is warmed into the reality of knowing the One who is love, was love and will always be love. And in that moment, it’s enough.

Out of the corner of my eye, my phone lights up of another guy asking me to hang out this weekend, and my response is to trade the light of my phone for the fire of the Creator. My soul is weak again.

Because the boy that lights up my phone should also light that internal fire more than ever before. I shouldn’t have to trade it, I shouldn’t have to borrow the world. I should be able to have both.

And that’s how I know. Because there are people, I know this to be true, who love Jesus more than they love me.

I don’t know much, but I do know this: I shouldn’t feel like I’m swimming and drowning at the same time, not in this way. It shouldn’t be suffocating. It shouldn’t be anxiety-causing. It should be freedom.

This all sounds simple in my head, but I’m not even sure that it makes sense and the truth is that I don’t care. And as I ramble forth, I will be still. I will take note of the things around me in a way like never before. And I will seek that moment, the moment where His love is enough for me. Because it is the only one that truly is.

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