"If you insist on having one of my cars down there, and it needs work ever again," says Dad, "then I'm having a tow truck bring it back because there's no way it would frickin' cost me that much here. I'm so sick of this. Just sick of this."
You're sick of dealing with this?
I'm sick of dealing with this. And I'm sick of getting the slack for it, too. I'm doing the very best I can. What do you want from me?
What do You want from me? I don't understand. I keep running and keep running and I want to stop but somehow I keep running and I don't even know if this is right path and all I want is to be on the right one and I know you can see it there so honestly in my heart and why won't you show me where it is already? If you really wanted me to know, wouldn't you make it obvious?
Why does everyone else seem to know where they're going? Why isn't anyone else breaking down?
Overreactions to transmission problems? Probably. On all parts.
Overreactions to life?
Not completely. I have never understood why atheists want to live. And I don't understand why the gospel should be a mystery. Why redemption doesn't seem complete.
As for You, I guess I'll keep waiting.
For now, water. Blue. Nectarines.
But I hear the solution is blood. Red. And apples were the problem.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
This is really good.
Post a Comment