Water Crisis

Hello Hello Hello! We have reduced our campus water usage to none! We cannot drink any water on campus unless it is /boiled/ and we cannot flush our toilets. Raleigh, you may be seeing me sooner than expected.

Recent events have made me think through some things. I have concluded a lot about life, and have even found its meaning! Please read on if you wish to have all the great questions answered! No, I am not a philosophy major – my powers are too great to be tested.

This great question of love that I often discuss in my blog posts is a myth. Love is not real, haha just kidding of course it is real! It has to be real! Without love, what would this world come to? It’s already a great big mess out here, imagine it without that sparkle of hope that keeps us going. Love is in everything, it drives our actions and soaks through our thoughts. Love is boiled into our skin, woven into our diapers as infants. We are only alive because of the love somebody had for us. Perhaps it wasn’t our parents, perhaps it was just the overflowing beauty of God’s love that is trapped within our pores, but love is always present.

Last night, whilst eating a chocolate frosty and crying over a boy, I was pretty darn mad at the world. As someone who considers herself a lover, the only way I can describe this super power of mine is that I love hard. It may be the worst adjective to put there, but let me explain further.

I love like a baseball pitcher – hurling my heart at ninety-some miles per hour. Sometime’s the person up to bat hits it right in the sweet spot and achieves the great honor of running around the field in hope of advancing, sometimes he strikes out. Which sucks for him, because the field of my heart is pretty great. The great thing about this reference is that it is utterly completely not how baseball works. Pitchers don’t really want batters to score. But hey, I’m a lover. I’m hoping the best for the players.

I love like a composer – perfecting each and every note until it sounds the way it does in my head. I count rhythm and beats until it expresses exactly what I mean. I scribble on staff paper and erase until the material wears away. I keep a sheet in my back pocket at all times, just in case the moment arises.

I love like a writer. There’s not much more to say about that. I write and write and write and pray that this all makes sense. These words are my sweet little brain-children who are released from the prison of thought and allowed to dance around the playground of these pages. I love like someone whose mind will never fully understand her.

To the boy who recently broke my heart,
I wasn’t going to call you out. But this is, after all, my space to write, and I have yet to directly address you. This is the first and last time I will ever do this.

I loved you the only way I knew how to, endlessly. I gave you every last bit of who I was ((who I am)). I wrote you a thousand some poems (21 to be exact) in the time that you rented this here heart. I hope those words haunt you and remind you of what you meant to me. I genuinely hope you read them. Writing requires an audience; these words must be read, or I’ve wasted my time. My love must be felt, or I’ve wasted my love.
I wrote 26 songs about you, you ended it before I could get to a multiple of three, so I suppose I will have to write at least two more before I can stop scribbling memories of you on a page.

I regret nothing from those 14 months, and I refuse to ever let myself regret them. I hope you do the same. I hope you look back at old photos and see how happy we were – how perfectly content with the world we could be. And even when the walls crumbled and bricks fell and we’d scraped our skin past repair, we still fought back with everything our hearts could withhold. I hope you remember that. I hope you can remember every last detail of my smile, and the curls that never fell in place, the way I’d laugh and laugh until I’d forgotten what the joke was. I hope you remember all the nights spent watching horrible TV shows and making fun of poorly written dialogue. I hope you can remember the way our hands fit together, like they were meant to hold each other, even if your arm fell longer than mine. Do you remember the stars? How they were just for us, every night? Or how a walk around a mountain held memories of us in each piece of grass. Do you remember those late night drives with a whole collection of songs I can’t listen to anymore? Have I ruined Agnes for you too?

I hope you remember the love we had for one another. I really truly hope you do. I’m not sure why or how you fell out of love with me. I’m not saying I’m the easiest to love, but you never seemed to have a problem with it before.

I’m not trying to change your mind, in fact I hope you don’t. This heart has been through too much to let any of that happen again. I just hope one day when you find the person you choose to love forever that you remember how it’s supposed to feel.

Love should be difficult, the hardest thing in the world. It should be what keeps us up all night overthinking. Love should occupy every last inch of our mind and soul. It should hold you steady when you feel like every thing around you is going to hell. That’s what it was for me, my inch of hope on this yard stick of terror.

Please don’t forget me, though I’m sure you will try to. Remember the french words you never understood, remember the endless amounts of iced coffee, and every word and note I wrote just for you. Remember how full my heart was for you. Never forget how I’d stop my world just to make you happy. Just remember that. Please. It’s literally the only thing I’m asking of you at this point.

To the rest of the world,
I am not some silly teenager who fell in love and got her heart broken. I am a real being, just as real as you yourself are. I am a person who feels deeply and loves hard. I am not weak, I am not defeated, and I am certainly not just an emotional girl.

I am a profound thinker who is continuing to grow and learn the most she can about herself. I have learned that I occasionally set myself up for disappointment, but c’est la vie.

I am determined to be better each day, to love to the fullest, to be a true light of the Lord. I am endlessly here for others, and I will continue to be. I will never stop loving until I have run out of love to give.

Dear world,
Never lose sight of your strengths.

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