I wanted to write a letter to the tornado, but nothing is coming to mind and I don't have an address to sent it to. I guess we have that in common. Whenever someone asks me mine, I don't know what to give them. In the past nine months, I have lived in seven places. For the first 18 years of my life I only lived in two, so a lot has changed.
When I heard about the tornado, I didn't feel that bad about it because I knew that Washington of all places would have the means to recover. It isn't like we live in an under-resourced town, we live in America and are pretty wealthy. I guess I lacked sympathy, but I thought I was just keeping perspective.
Now my thoughts have become a complete jumbled mess, and I am experiencing a lot of apathy with most aspects of my life. The only reason I've kept at this is probably because my fear of failure and giving up is still stronger than my lack of motivation.
I think more often that not, I feel thankful for the tornado. And not because I'm optimistic, but because I think we needed to be shaken up in some ways.
Every day I sit with this wall and wait for someone to look interested. I smile, sometimes wave, and people just walk by. What happened to acknowledging one another? And what scares me most is that I don't know that I would respond any differently. Yet, everyday God sends at least one person and my faith in humanity finds restoration. I've had strangers stop and bring me food, offer to help in ways unimaginable, or open up completely to me about their lives. Which makes me think that the place to start with this whole mess is honesty, which is why I shared some negative, embarassing confessions that make me feel like I'm not a great person.
And I want to invite you to be honest too, because I have a hunch that is where healing starts.