Everything that I am and was about is slowly becoming second-rate and less important. I am valuing the wrong things, placing trust in unwarranted affections. When I was younger, I strived to write and communicate better because I wanted to fully express all my thoughts, feelings, and emotions in the most clear, comprehensive way possible. Now, I look to bend and twist words better in order to hide what I really want to say; in order to convolute my thoughts to the public. I want to bare naked my thoughts and strip myself to honesty, but when I think of this, I wonder what is left of me. When I chip away all the rust, will I remain? So I let the rust build upon itself--into something corrosive and unsightly--and will one day not even remember there was once a person beneath the orange buildup of metallic dust.
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praise God, His blood will renew me and make me whole. I will not return to search for a part of me that I miss for I am a new creation. I will not return to leftover dessert, but to a banquet. Praise be to Him, His mercies are endless and His grace unreasonable. My God's irrational care for me is my only lifeline, and the only cause that effects me to worship in joy.
