I think I’ve always been afraid of failure.
before it all
There is this jar filled with pens that sits beside my bed.
In my room at night, I often read and journal while sipping on a cup of hot tea.
The grass is greener on the other side.
It’s September.
Eggs
The clock finally read 5:00pm.
have you ever thought so hard
I am home now.
When I get off work, I like to walk back along the beach.
Sh
I told myself I didn’t have any expectations for this summer.
The beach brings more things than the tide.
She looks at me, the clock ticking in the background, every tick reminding me she is waiting on me.
Wow.
This semester I encountered a truth: I am me and you are you.
The time began to draw near.
Some days I really have no idea.
Sometimes I feel bad sharing parts of my story if they don’t have happy endings.
I climbed into the hammock below mine in the pitch dark.
“It is really windy right now.”
#10: Haha.
I asked people “who are you?”
I think I would start with a breeze.
There is this little boy named Carl.
to process: perform a series of mechanical or chemical operations on (something) in order to change or preserve it
It’s the questions that will drag you down
August 14, 2017- The day I landed in Texas.
I was driving home today and I started tearing up.
I’m tired of people pleasing.
I have only known her for a few weeks.
Sometimes you just have to lay down.
It was quiet and calm before it became savage.
The city hosts will come into the lounge at night and talk about our day.
Let’s start with the ceiling.
We have been training the past two weeks.
Today is the day.
You’re nobody until somebody wants you.
We were sitting in a circle on my living room floor.
“Shhhh”
A few nights ago, I sat across from my friend on the fountain’s edge in front of Old Main.
I want to be faithful.
“I love the way you love the things you love.”
I sat in this quaint little seminary classroom.
I sat on the leather chair with my head lifted to the ceiling.
I seriously learn more and more about friendship everyday.
You think you know who you are…until you go to school with 30,000 people.
Today I was looking at all the pictures from last summer when I served as a summer missionary at Highland Lakes.
I call it freshman isolationism.
At camp, there is a lot of responsibility upon the shoulders of the staffers.
Beaches.
“My friend’s daughter is so smart and works hard, but then she fell in love with someone who works at Whataburger.”
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You just read the first sentence of every draft in my blog. It’s true. Writing is difficult. And most things I write I don’t finish. 53 drafts. 53 sentences. 53 ideas that I thought were lost. Some of them I don’t even remember writing. But they aren’t lost, nor are they incomplete. They just don’t look like my “published” ideas. We have both. Published ideas and draft ideas. Shared ideas and tucked away ideas.
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