Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...



Scott and I sat out there tonight, barely covered by the overhang, the rain splish-splashing onto our shoes. I told him that I don't think I realized just how much I've been hurting. Perhaps the best way to describe it is to say that I've got a huge bruise on my soul, and it keeps getting re-bruised. When will it heal? I don't know. It's a long semester, and who knows how the summer will go...or where it will go.

I told him I feel like I have spiritual PMS. Andrew asked me a couple of weeks ago if it's possible for guys to get PMS; after I got over the shock of his inquiry, I pondered his question in earnest. I forget what it was I told him, but his question came to mind again this evening. It sounds silly, I know, and it sounds like I'm mocking the fairer sex, but I'm not. *Sigh*...I wish I were.

Jon used to ask me, "are you funky?" That was his way of asking me if I was in a funky mood...moody...anti-social. If he were here now...oh, how I'd love for him to be here now...I'd answer him affirmatively. I'm definitely, without a doubt, undeniably, unconditionally, wholeheartedly Funky. But this one is legitimate, as opposed to many of the silly funks I'd embrace in days of yore. Jon was always patient with me, always very understanding; he knew how to read me, and I'd always look forward to whatever it was he had to say, if only because he could speak wisdom into my life like none other. *Sigh*'d be nice to have him here right now...'cause I'm in a funk...and it hurts.

Perhaps the healing will take a while. Perhaps not. I have no idea. My life is not my own, despite the fact that it feels like I'm the one who often sends it careening wildly onto paths it ought not tread. What's most important is that I entrust the wild careening to Him, because He endured far more wild careening than I ever will.

posted by Bolo | 11:59 PM
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