a little less than the girl next door (in_transit) wrote,
a little less than the girl next door
in_transit

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stuck

It's Your blood that cleanses me
It's Your blood that gives me life
It's Your blood that took my place, in redeeming sacrifice
And washes me whiter than the snow, than the snow
My Jesus, God's precious sacrifice

last night's qt--James 4:1-12; tonight's, Philippians 4:4-9. nothing much i'm gonna or hafta say really, except yesterday's reading says that faith isn't selfish, and that a faith that cares little for a hurting world is useless (or no faith at all). and today's says God is ultimately in control, and it says that whatever is true.. noble.. right.. pure.. lovely.. admirable.. excellent or praiseworthy--to think about them.

maybe all these have no link to my readers at all, so lemme try and provide the link--i've been selfish, been carrying on with a selfish attitude, caring little for a (i imagine must be) hurting someone, and not exactly been thinking very nice good stuff. for these reasons, now that they are pointed out, i cannot, must not, should not continue as i would have before. in a way i shan't elaborate, i feel torn.

sometimes i really don't know what to do, and at the point things happen, i really don't have that much time to actually ponder over them carefully, so very often, i end up doing what makes me feel best or most comfortable. i know saying i have no time to think is no excuse at all. i guess that might be where "die to self, die to self" comes in... but then again, very hard to remember, after having lived for myself all my life.

here are the lyrics to a song with a really nice and soothing tune to lull one to sleep. it's been on my repeat for the past hour. coughing fits seem only to start up in the night. i can't sleep at night and wake up way too early for me in the morning (when i shouldn't. and when i should, i don't). the internet has lost its hold on me.

i stare out the kitchen window and the yellow mazda 3 isn't back yet tonight. what does it matter to me? i don't know it's owner. i scavenge the fridge and finish the remaining three slices of mango strudel. i can't taste a thing. i'm neither hungry nor full. staring out the living room window, i see the guy on his comp in the dark again. what's he doing? what does it matter to me? i don't know him. what am i doing? i'm neither happy nor sad, excited nor frustrated. yet peace evades me.

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