A little dry-erase board clumsily attatched to my door reads: "LIVE like there's no tomorrow". Wrist bands in my jewelry box say: LIVE, LOVE, WWJD?; and so on. Books on my shelves speak about revolutions of love, and walking in God's steps, and being reveled with our true faces in the waking light of the mercy of God. Sermon notes litter my car floor along with gum wrapers and styrofoam coffee cups.
A little paper sits upon our family desktop. Piles of papers left unatended, and pencils strewn across the horizon. Car keys sit in my pocket, finances weigh in heavy on my mind. Music practice in an evening or two. Group projects need to be finished. Email need to be sent. People need to be called. Rooms need to be cleaned. Financed need to be managed. Panic needs room to grow.
All the while there are fake smiles, always fake. Sometimes I wonder if people are real at all. All the while behind exteriors there's nothing left, victim's of petty theft. Spending an entire life hoarding what is the very factor destroying authenticity. I wonder where all those hidden smiles, those hidden thoughts go? Does anyone know? I'd like to go. Just living to get by, makes me just want to cry. Living intentionally hurts, though. Where have all the real people gone? I'd like to go.
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