Turbulent.

I wake up in the morning after a night of trying to will myself to sleep and feel uneasy. I look for signs. An email, a text, and a message. Things happen in threes. I feel uneasy, like there is a hidden message I need to piece together. I start throwing guesses at nothing in particular, hoping to get a response. Emptiness. I hurl life decisions faster into the dark hole, wondering if larger proclamations will yield some kind of answer. Again, no. Is this a discussion with God or a struggle with anxiety? How does one untangle faith from hope? Today, I spin too fast.

The only sign I need tomorrow is the sunrise.


I’m working on being vulnerable. As much as I wanted to leave the above words without an explanation, I can’t. It feels weird. Bear with me during the growing pains.

*The above painting is by Odilon Redon.

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