I think I can relate to my character in Charlie Brown already when she says: "I was jumping rope and everything was okay...but then it all just seemed so futile."
...and I just realized how old my father looks. For a man of 55, really, these years of hardship have put some age on him.
I recieved a blessing of overflowing joy today. More than one, actually, but this one was really big. I can almost let out a sigh after this one, thank you Lord.
However, it seems so insignificant to your ears, or respectively, eyes. This blessing is only 'big' when it is taken out of the context of the things traveling through my brain at a thousand miles a minute. These are things I never thought I'd think, to be honest. Complete futility, complete disappointment, complete lack of meaning-that's about it. But since I do not relay my sorrow to human beings, it would seem odd to relay my joy as well, because they somehow cancel eachother out. Joy after sorrow is the all-American rehabilitation story that everybody loves. Joy by itself is overrated.
But it couldn't have come on a better day.