Wishing, breathing, hoping, feeling.


I don’t know.

Sometimes, I wonder why life is hard. Not my life, but others. I’m not perfect, but what do I have to complain about? I’ve got food, shelter, and family and friends that love me to death.

But what about the people who don’t have it as easy as me? What about Chase, who’s suffering in the hospital? What about my mom, whose struggled so much lately? What about people who feel so alone, that they can’t talk to anybody?

Maybe, I’m naive. I try to help, I DO, but sometimes I’m such a wimp. I want to reach out and help people, but I can’t. Is it shyness? I’ve never been shy per say.

So I’ll just sit here and write about the things that I should be doing.

I shouldn’t write this for the world to see, but I’m going to anyway.

Today in sacerment meeting, this returned missionary kept looking at me, if you know what I mean. Cute kid, and he had a great voice, BUT then, he pointed to me in front of the whole ward and used me as an example of how I could teach my friends the gospel.

Can you say awkward?

So my ward, and my parents, are making wedding plans. They told me I would have cute kids.

How strange.


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