M@

The more I do, the more energy I have to do more still. The more I love, the greater my capacity to love. The more I give, the more I have to give. (I just don’t make any sense!)

When the time is right, I will be joyful. When the time is right, I will suffer. Yet either in joy or suffering, I will continually praise God.

The sorrows of the present can at times seem to erase the joys of the past, but the joys of the present can make the past’s sorrows melt away.

Why do people hope when there really is no hope? Some things are impossible. Some were never destined to be. Others could physically never happen. So why cant people just accept this and move on? Empty hope is no hope at all.

Filled with sorrow and forgiveness combined, my heart dances falteringly in the rain. Slip, slide, up, down. Uninspired to cheer up, but knowing full well the rain will cease.

Friends don’t come with a money-back guarantee. There’s also no brand name you can trust.

What a shame that we must all hide our true colours for fear of others not accepting us for who we truly are. Life should not be a stage, and we ought not to be actors.

Sometimes you find an old pair of shoes you haven’t worn in a while, and you put them back on. You think, how comfortable they are! But sooner or later, you realize why you stopped wearing them…

I was sitting in the park and it occurred to me. God made so many creatures prepare for so long for such short performances. They spend so much time ugly, working hard to get to the next step, and then they morph into what they were always meant to be. That time seems always to be far, far shorter than the prep time. Dragonflies spend up to 5 years nymphs and just up to 5 months as dragonflies. Amazing. I hope that, after all this prep, when my time to shine comes, I will shine very brightly indeed.

Should I be glad that the sorrow has passed, and with it my inspiration to write; or should I mourn instead? It is strange that the two seem to go hand in hand; sorrow and prose. Why am I this way? Then again, I write in my joy too…

I wish I could bottle the cool breeze, the stars in the sky, the lights of the streets reflecting on the river. The company. The fresh memories of the good day I’ve just had. The taste of the food. Such things can never be saved, only remembered.

The music plays and I can feel the beat, it courses through my veins, but when, oh when, will I let go and dance?

I look forward to the day that I stand before my Lord in Heaven. I will be happy then because all I have done and said will be known, and my motives will be clear for all to see. I hate the way people now misunderstand and misjudge me.

I’m really finding it hard to trust anyone now. How many times will a girl say she loves me, and then treat me with such contempt? How many times will a good friend say they care, an that they will never leave my side, and then they do just that?