sometimes, I wonder why.
why I keep doing this. why I keep pounding keys and scribbling sentences.
(or, lately, why I don’t. why I let the pen site idle and the laptop screen is a tv show, lately, instead of words.)
yet I still cling to this title, this word. writer.
why? why? why do I scrape the inside of my soul for words? why do I sit frustrated when they are gone? what, really, have I even got to say? what can I contribute?
because there are a million girls like me out there. girls with a laptop and a blog and some words.
I’m nothing special.
I have no miraculous healing, no adversity overcome. I do not have a sensational testimony for you. everyday girl. everyday struggles. everyday grace. I’m nothing special. and it feels, sometimes, like shouting into the abyss.
are you feeling like you’ve read this post before? maybe. probably. I’ve probably written something like this before.
cause see, that’s just it: I’ve really only got a few things to say.
but the things I want to say? I think that, just maybe, they are worth repeating.
you are beloved. you are worthy. you are cherished. you are brave. you are strong. you are chosen. you are beautiful.
that’s it. that’s all I want you to know. that’s really what it boils down to: you, darling, you are loved, to infinity and beyond, by One who made you, One who died to know you.
and every post I want to write is just that. over and over. in slightly different variations. in multiple shoddily-constructed metaphors. because you, you need to know. it and because I am writing to myself just as much as I am writing to you, and I need to know it too.
I’ll just keep shouting the truth. over. and over. until that truth is the blanket we wrap around ourselves when the night gets chilly, and that truth is the first thing that crawls through your mind when you wake up, and that truth is the truth. the truth you know. the truth you go to.
I write because of the truth. I write because I need to find the truth. I write because I need to remember the truth.
and maybe, that will not get me a book deal. that will not get me followers. I will be just a girl with a laptop shouting into the abyss.
but I will be shouting the truth. over. and over. and I hope that maybe, you’ll hear it. maybe I’ll hear it.