Love

I become deeply nostalgic at Christmastime. So much so, I often wonder if my thoughts are at all worth my attention; they are glimpses of the reality of my mind, through rose-colored glass.

This year, I am most nostalgic for the moments in my life of great clarity-- when I knew where I should be and what I should be doing. Those snippets have been rare, and short-lived. I constantly feel out of place, or in the wrong place. I long for clarity of vision and the feeling of security in its pursuit, even if its pursuit is the most dangerous of adventures.

I know: I am loved. My life is purposed. Everyone has a story, and mine is a unique one to tell.