I have no friends. It bothers me that I'm not completely motivated to make and find more. Lots of the time I just want to hole up in my room. Its not my own company that I want but just escape to live in a vacuum. I get overwhelmed easily. Relationships that a 32 year old is supposed to have, friends, spouses, children seem to be a step up for me and are behind a glass pane.

I literally do not know how to describe my reality. Bit of a slow and fast and anxious day my new skin of feeling not fatigued all the open questions. I feel the expectations confusing me both happy and sad feel threatening but the real threat is clinging on.

Feeling down about myself in a way that doesnt help. Reading explicit stories left me feeling overstuffed and unwanted, removed and untouchable. Everything to do with sexuality is a slippery slope. i am not allowed to be sexual until i tie myself to the kind of eternal atmosphere of my childhood home. marriage is permission but marriage is sad. marriage is quiet. marriage is unhappy.

And then comes the other double take, lust, gluttony for sexual attraction and affection...but also a blankness from my own life, afraid of the double crossing that I will do and my friends will do to me. Where I want to keep in a box and bust out all of the same time. I get what I ask for, not real flesh and blood but imaginary, someone who is always attracted to me, always turned on, never cheats or accuses of cheating.

Another first world problems post.Im not okay with feeling better and calmer and within a shortened emotional range. I had something, even if it was just sadness a direction and orientation. Now I have happiness, waking up in the morning and being content for the days events to unspool. The humiliation in being happy that you were wrong and to be 31 and have to go through puberty and experimentation again. I'm actually going to have to go out the door and live in each movement whilst the snob in my head shouts at me that it's beyond me and I have higher standards.

Chunks taken out of my own body. Why does he both want me to write and want me dead?

I don't have a narrative so much of what was safe hemmed me in. I have to be both happy and sad and I have an audience.  Everything has cooled but I have less skills and less confidence. As I write I want to hurl the tablet. I want to be separate and I want to read the Bible in a way that isn't just a book version.

Some thoughts which may or may or may not be theologically correct in my enthusiasm.

We will meet Him in the air, and then we will be like Him, for we will see Him as He is

I couldn't find my phone, so you got a blog post instead. 

Finally, it seems, right at the end of a lifetime of little changes of degrees, our final part of conversion into being a Christian will take place. When we see He as He is, then we will finally be as we are.

Take this blog post, for instance,it was only when we conversed with that one comment on the Phatfish video I was watching "this is the message that I want people to know" that I was able to do it. Even now, a few minutes after the connection, I am scrabbling around for understanding and words to get the message across which for a few moments was crystal clear and trans-formative for me. Now left by myself and hold my sight, I'm retreating back into my defensive shell of shyness and trying to deflect and defend that by using long words to show understanding. When I die, that moment of half-seeing will become moments of true company and then I can finally shed and let go of this life.

I let my Parent down today...not in a way that was cool and rebellious but I was simply afraid. A women sitting on a bench in a park with her dog with a walking cane by her side. I petted the dog so I had something other to say other then 'I think Jesus-who-only-I-can-see would like me to ask Him to make your leg better'. Then I walked away. Shuffled mostly, I oscillate between an extroverted energy and a body shut-down.

Now I'm skulking in my room, my real safe place, concrete, touchable and more the moment unchangeable. My mood is low and I'm already ruminating on the challenges of tomorrow, the day after that. I've lost contact after yesterday, the discussion between me and A where there was not two anymore but three, or One? The tears coming to my eyes after it was time to be on my own and face the train and its passengers alone. The brief cradling with the insomnia meditation, it was easier to close my eyes but now its morning and they have to open.

Again, not sure what to post, its probably just a mini rant about how I feel pressure to always give a good report about this relationship so that He can have it with others, but I don't feel like that so I'll just keep quiet.

Probably that I feel really angry but I cant get to it. If I had carried on like I used to I would allow the anger but now I cant shake the feeling that the heart is above all deceitful.

It stays with me, how I'm crushing my best friend-not that we're close but he has acted like a best friend anyway. If you say that you love someone why wouldn't you allow their say? I'm afraid of being overwhelmed, I picture it like a scouring, the light/dark clean/unclean of my childhood.

Was it? Was it deception? I flip from victim to guilty and back again, I only know that something happened. I had feelings and reactions, sensations that i could not describe and now feel adrift from.