shallow death

A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow. ~Charlotte Brontë


it's not insomnia, no no. something...softer, more muted and less painful.
sleep confounds me with the way it addicts, and yet right now, it eludes me. maybe my body has revolted. maybe this is me saying in a vindictive whisper, "you don't own me".

difficult occurence, it is, because always I want it, always I love it, and always I am so happy to get it. Yet, somehow it upsets me that I need it. What a waste of precious hours.

So if I had all those hours back, what would I do?
My favorite thought: (...besides living out nonsensical dreams...)

just run around places at night, at the MIDDLE of it- When no one else is around, and you have large empty places with yellow and green lighting all to yourself.
I love large empty places that you know will be bustling, or were bustling, at a different time.
civilization at a pause, it seems- as if all the characters in a movie were removed from the plot to soon be rewritten, but the set still remains, and you are left there to enjoy the in-between of stories.

sleep is almost like a shallow death to me... where do you go? Once in a world with others, it lets you be alone.
actually, it's kinda the same as when you don't sleep.

so I never cease to amaze myself with my apathy, my distant complacence, and overall disobedience when it comes to following God...because I want to, you see, that isn't an issue. But are my actions in line with my supposed desires?
To the world, I've been the same. To the world, I'm plently of things. In my heart, I've just been a child, as if I've regressed in my spiritual life. This isn't like being a Matt 18:3 child, this is more like the child who cries about nothing at all...who cries about a cut not because it hurts, but because they saw blood come out, and decides that blood warrants crying regardless of pain.

I took this picture in a Barber shop, and the little kid didn't know what was going on, but was sure pitching a fit. I know that haircuts don't hurt, so was he crying because he was unsure, or afraid? His parents were right next to him...why was he afraid? I don't understand kids sometimes.
I'm sure God feels the same way. What is it that so easily draws them away from Me? Why must they whine about nothing at all?

I haven't really been crying about petty things lately, or even doing "bad" things. I've never really done "bad" things. Maybe that's my problem. I get into routine, into school, into work, into life, and forget about LIFE, and the source therein, and why I NEED HIM.
The world slowly starts taking over, but not in a drastic immoral way, because that is much to conspicuous.
God is always on my mind, but not always in my heart, and I often do things for Him, but rarely with Him.

In fact, I have stopped doing things I love all together. Music, poetry, reading, writing, and God have all just become distant shadows of who I am "inside"...this enigmatic essence that used to makeup me. I want it back. I've spent more time with rats lately than I've spent in the word, and that's when you know priorities are a little out of whack.
(The whole rat thing is because of my research, I'm not like some freaky rat-lover...haha the thought makes me laugh...kinda like those old cat ladies who take in every stray they find and their house becomes something of a cat brothel with pee stains everywhere and cardboard boxes strewn about the yard. Ok, this digression has gone too far.)

Anyway, I'm quite transparent when you know me. I haven't written...REALLY written, in a a few months, and that means I haven't taken much time for introspection, which subsequently means I haven't spent much time with the Lord. Always a bad sign. I'm giving Him my leftovers, and these days I don't have anything but crumbs left on the table.
So I'm starting to rebuild me (secondary goal), by rebuilding my relationship with Him. That's what has been going on these past couple silent months.

One of the most humbling verses:
" 'What a weariness this is,' you say, and you sniff at me, says the Lord. You bring what has been taken by violence or is lame or sick, and this you bring as your offering! Shall I accept that from your hand? says the Lord." Malachi 1:13

p.s. this is maybe one of my favorite pictures that I have taken...ever.