I guess I’ve been more afraid of commitment than I’d like to admit.
I crave this deep level of intimacy, yet shield myself from ever reaching it by putting up walls.
And that’s not even to say that I haven’t met people willing to attempt to climb or crumble them, but instead that I’ve become an elusive architect, raising the walls when under pursuit.
But He alone is successful.
As I feel them, melting.
I’m aware that all my efforts are being ruined by Him, and that it’s okay.
There’s such a peace about the process.
I’ve been shying away, in pursuit of comfort disguised as knowledge.
Afraid to commit to any one ideal or belief, in fear I may have to surrender all that I have come to know so far.
And then I realized, what am I really even giving up? Nothing.
Here I am, 21 with no direction. Craving purpose and a new perspective.
I don’t know what to pursue with my life, where to go from here.
But I know now for certain, that I cannot do it alone.
And so, if that’s not a bargain, I don’t know what is.
I know it’s going to be rough, raw, and I’m going to stumble over myself countless times, but I’ve never been more excited to fail miserably.
— Haruki Murakami, Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
can someone invent a candle that smells like a blown out candle
hi my name is Lauren and I’m addicted to pumpkin seeds