Bubbles & disillusionment

And in the middle of the night I may watch you go

There will be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown

There’ll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown

But I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine



Mumford & Sons plays.

I curl my bare feet under me as I set my chin in my hands, looking thoughtfully at the screen.


After a week, I am normally already full of thoughts I want to write about, and I wish the days would pass quicker so I could write again.


But for some reason, today,

my mind is quiet.


I think I know why.


Thinking has been hard. This past week I’ve been so overwhelmed emotionally that it’s safer not to think. It’s less scary. There’s been so much on my mind, I could hardly handle it.


Out of all the feelings crammed in me right now, I mostly feel disillusioned. Disillusioned with people, my life, even the American Church.


You see, I used to live in a bubble- a world where everything was so good and all people were trustworthy. And this past month it feels like my eyes have been opened. All of the sudden I see things for what they really are, rather than what I wanted them to be. And while some things aren’t completely different, some things are so different that it’s rocking my boat.


And while my world shifts, the rest of the world goes on living their lives, blissfully unaware of the bubble that popped.


I wish I could be them.


It’s so much safer/pleasant to tell myself that there’s nothing to be done, that it’s out of my control, that it’s other people and not me.


And that’s what I’ve been doing all week- avoiding, blocking, shutting out.


But when I sit back and do nothing, I am just as responsible for the pain as everyone else.


So you know what? No more. I want to be an earth-shifter, a pioneer, a challenger, a voice that calls out in the silence of others’ doubt.


And I can’t shift the earth of others if I won’t accept the shift in my own.


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