Today walking home from taps week i dropped a quarter. "A quarter from heaven!" My friend joked. I cynically shot back, "It's a quarter from my F$@kin' pocket, there is no heaven, goodnight." and marched into my house, my cynisim driving the wheels of my geography. When did I start to think this way? I know there is a heaven; each day I regard such a place and such a proper noun with regard and reverance...yet lately I begin each day with a plea for purpose--for a reason to get up, for a task to be completed, for anything. Each day is a floating island, not admonishing or encouraging, merely pulsating. I am so tired. I have job offers; I am a lucky one. But my job offers are not in careers, merely enjoyments. They will be sick of me, be rid of me and be erased of me within two years, I shall bet money on it. I am a two year type of person--people find me delightful for the first 24 months, then disgusting for the 24 after that. It's just the way my life has panned out; I have no reason why. I want so desprately to know heaven--to know what is expected, what is desired and what is directed; but no words come. I am alone in this regard. And I am tired to the point that denouncing seems more reasonale then defense. Not a good situation to be in!
I shall write more when my head is attached---
