Kyle, Matt, and I ended up at Wal-Mart after I got of work tonight. We met a very interesting woman whose last name eludes me, but who goes by Lil. “Lil the Pill,” as she said some call her. She said she was bipolar, recently divorced, and living in her car; but despite all that, she seemed like she was pretty much all there. But I may be biased. She also came right out and said that she was lonely, and my heart goes out to lonely people. I’m pretty lonely, myself; but much less than I used to be.
She asked us all about ourselves, which for me meant talking more about my father and my sordid past than I’m accustomed to, but...I dunno, I guess it was kind of nice. I’m a really open person, but no one ever asks. I really wish my friends did, but maybe people aren’t like that. I don’t really know.
It can be hard. I feel pretty cut off from most other people. I don’t know if it’s because I was homeschooled, or just because my father had such little influence in my life (if I had to guess, I’d say both), but I seem to just have different thoughts and feelings about things than “normal” people. I have a hard time making conversation with someone I don’t know very well, or who isn’t themselves very outgoing; which makes it extremely difficult to make new friends, or to have very deep relationships even with the ones I do have.
Anyway, we talked to her for probably an hour, and she was extremely interested in Trinity. She asked for all our numbers, and information about Trinity; but she also asked Matt where he worked like four times, so who knows if she’ll even remember. Whatever the case, I hope things go well for her, and that she won’t be lonely.
Talking about my family always gets me thinking deeply about everything, and I can’t remember how I came to it, but I want to record it here, so that I’ll remember later, that I’m really glad to be alive. It sounds kind of trite, but it’s something I’ve thought about a lot, and something I couldn’t always have said. It’s good to be alive; but at the same time, I’m terrified of living. It’s a strange duality of feeling. On the one hand, God didn’t have to make me; he doesn’t need anyone, and the world would certainly get on fine without me. But he apparently thought it better for me to exist than for me not to exist, and existence is his gift to me. That idea infuses my life with real meaning. It shows life as an opportunity; as an adventure; a part that I get to play in the great cosmic drama. On the other hand, I only get to do this once--if I screw up, that’s it. I don’t get a second chance. So I want to live rightly. But I don’t know what I’m doing, and I feel like I’m running out of time to figure it out before the choice isn’t mine anymore.
But maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be for me. Maybe if I just go with the flow, it’ll take me where I’m supposed to be.
I don’t know. I’m kind of rambling now, I guess. I just want to remember that I decided when I was young that, as hard as life is, it’s still good to be alive. But I hope I don’t forget.
I guess that’s all.
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