I laugh easily, love easily, and generally find it easy to deal with what a lot of people call "life problems" because I have personally uncovered a secret that shouldn't be so secret-atized:
We have a point. We have a reason for existence. There is hope.
It hurts me so much when I see that people don't believe this. It stings, burns, tortures me from the inside to watch when someone can't see worth in the most priceless of things. It's a deep sort of hurt. And I have a hard time dealing with it. With it comes frustration because I honestly can't make you understand. I can never "make" you do anything.
---which, by the way, is a really good thing, because if I could it's very very likely that I would become a twisted overlord and dominate the earth.
But yeah, I haffta deal with my own frustration. Sometimes I want to facepalm because peace (and piece of mind) that comes from faith in Jesus Christ makes it hard for comprehend just how stranded and nasty you (figuratively) might be feeling. It bothers me because I have something that will help. I have something that will cure. I should be waving it in the air and shouting about it at the top of my lungs. But I'm not. I fail. I and my fellow Christians are the ones with the [literally] life-saving vaccine, but we're also the ones who are hiding it in our pockets.
I'm watching the world burn to ashes, and I'm the one with all access to the oceans.
Some people live with the notion that they will be happy.
"Not yet, but soon. I'll be happy eventually. I'll work hard. I'll earn respect. I'll be loved. I'll have money, a warm place to sleep, and a family. I'll be able to hold my head high because of the pricetag on my shoes and the souffle in my oven. And then I will love my life. That's when I'll be content."
---Are you blind??!
Look pal. Hate to break it to ya this way. But people are cruddy. Ever. Single. One. We are flawed. We are dirty. We are imperfect, screwed, and not one of us could stand in front of another and say without lying between our teeth:
"I've done it right. I've got no sploches on my record, no stains on my shirt."
So do you really expect to find contentedness in another human's love, money, respect, or acknowledgement? If people are fickle, is it not rational to assume that what they give will be fickle as well? How can you argue otherwise?
We fail. We mess up. Time over time over time. We are both false and faux, therefore, our actions will be the same.
"A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, neither can a bad tree bear good fruit."
If you think your happiness is coming from your destiny and future sucess, you may as well be expecting to get a pineapple from a cherry tree.
I'm nadda botinast, but I'm thinking this isn't gunna happen... -_-
Errm---so if that's my reasoning, it sounds like I don't believe in happiness. Apparently I'm saying humans are trash (?). I basically just blared out that there is not meaning whatsoever, and you will never find anything worthwhile.
WELL HEY NOW, I'M NOT DONE YET.
Hey now---I said there was Hope.
Hey now---I said there was Peace.
Hey now---I'm saying there is purpose, beauty, and joy.
But we know that these things do not come from humankind. Even if you didn't agree with me up there (^), I know that you're looking for something. Something...you aren't sure what it is yet. But you're always searching. Always on the look-out. You can stop, and it's eating you up. Every day it's turning you a little bit more mad. Still, you search. On and on. Quietly relentless, until you've persued everything the world teases. You have a hole in your heart. A chasm in your soul. It's wearing on you mind, and gnawing the strength in your body. You need the antidote. You need the missing puzzle piece. You'll work yourself silly, to stuff whatever the world offers into that hole. You'll do everything you can to plug it up. But nothing fits. No matter how hard you try to shove it.
And I'll tell you now. I'll tell you now. You won't find it here.
Have you ever wondered why we wonder? Animals don't wonder. Plants don't wonder. The skies and the seas---they don't wonder. They don't toil to find the filler that you and I quest for. What makes us think? What makes us unsatisfied? What makes us...us? The answer? Our souls.
"You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body."
