I just pre-ordered this album. I’ve listened to all the previews I can, and his poetry is no less captivating than ever before. John Mark is a blessing; his lyrics are refreshingly complex, something to make you think, and the music is heartfelt and beautiful.
Her skin is soft, silky to touch and fair to sight;
Her eyes are reminiscent of stars.
Her smile disarms.
I want nothing more than to be here,
Close.
When I found out I was going to be the President of the honor society at my school, my first thought was something along the lines of, “That will be great for getting into college!”
I still feel badly about that.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was in a position of quite a significant amount of influence. I could do something. I could make some kind of difference.
And that’s when I thought of Falling Whistles.
In the Congo, there is a war going on. Some call it the deadliest war since WWII. What makes the situation tragic, though, is the soldiers put on the front lines:
Children, armed with nothing more than a whistle.
These kids are forced to run towards the opposing forces, blowing on whistles. Taking bullets. Dying.
One man discovered this tragedy and wrote a journal entry about it that was eventually published, and it attracted many people wondering how they could help.
Today, Falling Whistles rehabilitates children and women scarred by this war, and they work with partners based in Congo to stop it, but to do it, they need help.
I want to help.
I’ve already talked with a member of the organization, and I’m all set to make a difference.
Now, we just have to do it.
I lie awake imagining the feel of your skin.
It’s soft, warm. Your body fits into mine, like a mold, and I can feel your breath on my neck, your hair in my face. The rhythm of your sleep is intoxicating, and my body follows yours in the undulations of your slow, steady breathing.
It kills me to think that that isn’t what you want.
I think people chase feelings. They chase what it feels like to be in love, rather than focusing on the action itself. I find myself thinking more and more that that isn’t how I want to live. I don’t want to search for feelings. I want to be loved and feel it, but the important thing is that I love. It shouldn’t matter whether or not I ever feel loved a single time in my entire life, so long as I know that I have made someone else feel that way that can’t be described, when you know that someone, somehow, has managed to care more about you than they do about themselves. That “first love” feeling doesn’t last forever. When you don’t seem to have that sparkle anymore, it would be cold and wrong to leave someone you love for no better reason than to pursue an evasive, finite feeling. Because Love is so much more than a feeling.
Somehow, it always manages to make me feel better. There’s something about a multitude of different sounds and tones and instruments and noises coming together to make something beautiful that’s just incredible. There really isn’t anything like it.
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I hate watching people in trivial relationships. The kind that they get into because they feel like it. It makes me sick to think that one person could use another person like that, even more so that they could mutually use each other like that, for sex or whatever their motive might be. Sometimes i feel like there’s no such thing as respect for other people anymore. People are only tools to be used in the acquisition of our own perverted “happiness”.
Sickening.
I’m in a state of numbness that I can’t seem to shake. I have soccer tryouts tomorrow. I don’t feel like I really care if I make the team or not. I broke up with my girlfriend of fourteen months yesterday. I can’t tell if I hurt myself or her more, though I know it was right. It just seems like the future doesn’t matter to me.
It makes me uncomfortable.
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