Silver Lining

I was in church on Sunday morning thanks to a few reminders from concerned individuals who noticed my absence the past few sabbath. I've run out of excuses and so by divine intervention I woke up early yesterday, put on my Sunday best and went. I don't know, but each time I do get my sorry, sinful ass to church, I feel blessed later. Not always but sometimes.

I'm listening to 'The pieces don't fit anymore - James Morrison'.

Like that ever works. I seem to have a knack for causing self-inflicted, unnecessary pain. And because I manage to successfully accomplish the inane, I suppose I'm the only one who can cure the pain - did I just fucking rhyme?

I would definitely prescribe masochism, for reasons beyond me. Because as I dwell and expose my super self to kryptonite, I feel inadequate and less proud. The moment I am left a helpless heap of brokenness, then I come to acknowledge a greater power. That which I neglect on happier times.

When it comes down to stripping, the good Lord really knows how to deal. But, hey!!! Seriously, why does the stick have to be so hard? But after all the drama, thanks to his sovereignty and grace, everything turns out just fine. Like a weird habit, I scratch irritations until they bleed so I'd stop scratching.

Bleeding, as the Goo Goo Dolls expertly expressed, makes you know you're alive.