oh, for pete's sake

There are times I think back on my life before college and think maybe ignorance was bliss. I first heard this song, "Cynical Me" back then, probably around my junior year of high school when I received Iver's EP from Becca. I thought it was a beautiful song, but I didn't reflect on the lyrics, seeing as that sort of thing didn't interest me much. Nothing interested me much unless it had to do with my non-committal relationship with a boy or some other cheap teenage thrill.

Yeah, I was young. I was ignorant and even cynical in some of the more menial ways.

Currently, I am almost too exhausted to keep on with the thoughts and conversations I used to ignorantly go without. With God, about God, pertaining to some notion of God, pertaining to some notion of no God, with myself, about God and me. Relationships, right, wrong, success, failure, strength, weakness, faith, hope, love, joy, truth, Truth, peace, turmoil, purpose. People, this is exhausting. Simply put, I am tired, and I'm not even 23 yet. In fact, 23 terrifies me. This can't go on.

I'm starting to gather that there is a purpose in my incessant need to analyze these things and then analyze them some more and then analyze them to death (perhaps there's never a need for that last one, actually), but I also get that there need to be some pretty strict limitations on this as well. The fool wastes her life by constantly seeking and never reveling in the joy of Truth. It may never come naturally for me to do this, and the discipline to do it may be even more difficult than I imagine it is and will be. But there really is little joy in being jaded and cynical. The power of the mind is intoxicating, but living and dictating according to that power is exhausting and ultimately debilitating. Eventually, my mind is able to strip everything of its importance. Then I fail classes. Then I become a self-serving friend, sister, and daughter. Then I back out on almost every commitment. Then I curl up in this chair and write another blog post that enlightens me yet again as to how encumbered I am by my pride. Then, undoubtedly, I grieve the cycle and hate life.

I'm a puppy whimpering at the feet of my Master.