A compilation of my thoughts, right this moment.

a. Too many cookies
b. I really want some tea
c. My legs are going to hurt tomorrow.
d. Maybe UW isn't too bad?
e. Why aren't I doing my homework?
f. I hate Alyssa Pluffer.  Known as AP for short.
g. I also hate the man who wrote the calculus book.  Nerd.
h. Teachers are obnoxious.
i. I'm going to get up and make some tea.
j. Never mind. 
k. I should really stat my homework.
l. Maybe I'll be a traveling missionary pediatrician photojournalist!  YEAH!
m. I'm running out of thoughts, I think.
n. What if i skipped the letter n.  Would it be angry?
o. Oh, a facebook notification!
p. Jack my swag.
q. I feel bad for Rebecca Black. 
r. I can't say believer without thinking of Justin Bieber.
s. The National Anthem is a difficult song.
t. SO MUCH HOMEWORK
u. Can i go back to Ireland?
v. Start
w. Now.
x. Mwah
y. ha
z. ha

Spring Break.

Boring and uneventful.  Thus far.  Dom-dom-dom-dom. 

It's just wierd.

I've never known anyone to commit suicide. 

Truth be told, I didn't really know Cory, but in hindsight, would I have made any difference?

He was in the room when I gave my speech on how people matter.  Was he listening?

Did he know that the problems would end, but the pain he caused some people would never, ever go away?

I don't understand suicide and I don't think I ever will.

But, now it's hit home and my only choice is to hold my head high and hope my peers are doing the same. 

R.I.P. Cory Gibson.  WHS will never, ever forget you. 

It's not cool to skip school.

You might hate me for it, but I'd like to skip college and skip courting and wake up in Africa as a 28 year old with a degree in Pediatrics, and a beautiful, loving, husband next to me.

Since that's not possible, I guess I'll take sitting at my laptop in Starbucks drinking an earl grey tea and thinking about the things God has in store. 

The things you do.

"If it's a broken part, replace it. If it's a broken arm, then brace it. If it's a broken heart, then face it.

Hold your own. Know your name. Go your own way."

I don't want any of it. 

What I really want is you. 

I want you to care.

I want you to know my speech was incredible.

I want you to know I want to be a doctor.

I want you to know I'm going to be successful.

I want you to know I love you.

I want you to know you weren't her mistake.

Because 21 years later, there's me. 

"All the details in the fabric. All the things that make you panic."

Projection

Think with me for a second.

Who would you be if there were no negative outside influences?

I think about it a lot.

No one crushing my ambitions,

Telling me I'll never make it,

Encouraging me to smoke weed, drink beer, party all night.

Is it just me that has these thoughts?

And more importantly, who would I be?

It's nice knowing.

I'm never too far from grace.
That when that still small voice speaks, it will not be the last time. 
Sometimes, I'd just wish He'd roar. 
I know I'm screwing it all up.
I know I should be patient.
I know You have great things planned. 
I know I'm a failure, a klutz, a jerk, a back-stabber, a gossiper, a thief, a coveter, a sinner.
Yet, You still love me. 
I don't think any amount of theology will ever help me comprehend that.