Sometimes I forget that.
There comes a point where music loses meaning, and you feel dead to the world, and all you write feels trite and meaningless. What is the point of straining against the whelming darkness when it vaunts over you? Why should you continue to strive when all your enemies laugh in your face, and all you do seems to come to naught? Why sing when there is nothing to sing for?
Why write when no-one listens?
This has been a hard year for me, in many ways. I have been rejected repeatedly; sometimes by people who did not realize they were rejecting me, other times by those who took glee in rejecting me. My best friends have been hurt and exhausted. I have tried too hard to be the one who bears the light alone; I have taken the responsibility for things I have no control over; I have failed the things that I did have control over; and all seems to be in pieces.
I am impatient and proud; I want to fix everything, NOW. I told my roommate–only half in jest–that I wished God would give me temporary control over our lives, so I could just fix everything and get it over with. (What insane thought made me say that? I can barely hold what little I am in charge of together. Ah well. She loves me.)
But in the face of all that is God’s inexhaustible and overwhelming love. Nothing I have faced comes near to what He did for me while I yet hated Him. I may have my little battles, but He has already won the war.
And this darkness shall not endure.