I really don't have anything important to say.

It's curious, the way in which your body responds to that which is going on around you. I feel like whenever I am home, I emotionall shut down. I don't feel, think, or live. I just am there, trying to get buy without getting the heart ripped off my sleeve. I don't think it's intentional, but, it is as if, whenever I pull up to my drive way, and pass the thresh hold of my house's door, I stop functioning as I should. I find myself not caring, or trying not to, so I don't have to deal what it really going on... how I really feel: disappointed, angry, hurt, scared, frustrated...

So I ask myself, Do I run because I am afraid, or am I afraid because I run.

I think it is that later. I conitually find myself running, causing the limbs and muscles in my legs to ache and scream in pain, but  I won't slow down and the only time I ever stop, or relieve myself from that constant state of moving and not seeing, is when I crash blindly into God.

I hate that I run. I hate that I run for no reason. Because really, I have no right or reason to run. I have love. I have freedom. I have salvation. I have life. Everlasting life. And I can't seem to wrap my mind around it, or slow down long enough to see the glorious and beautiful world God has created around me. I seem to be dwelling on my own disease and self-destruction and inadequacy. It's not right of me.

It's not fair of me... to myself or to God. But I can't seem to shake this raw and harsh need to run.

I think I run because I know I am volnurable. Because I can't take one more person running out of my life, or leaving me, or telling me how much they wish I am not who I am. I can't take that kind of heart ache again. And I am so afraid that He will do that. I am so afraid that one day, He will all of a sudden realise just how worthless and undeserving that I am and no longer love me.

Logically, I know this won't happen. I know that He is an everlasting and unconditional love. I've felt it. I've seen it. I know it. But I don't feel it now.

I just really need to believe in the promises God has made to me.

I have to stop believing everyone but the originater of truth.

I want, no, need to be craddled in the arms of God Himself.

For a while now, by dad has been very sick.

Actually, for longer than two years, trips have been made back and forth between house and hospital. I don't know anymore.Receantly, just these past couple of months, he has only progressively gotten worse. I for sure thought my dad would get better. I prayed about it. Those I needed and cared about the most prayed, too.

Countless precedures have been made. My dad is tired. He can barely keep down his meals, has had surgery, blood transfusions, proscribed medicines whose names I can't even begin to pronounce. Fear and exhaustion has become permantely etched into his face, creasing his forhead and giving him the appearance of someone much older than he is. His complection is a gray color. He is waisting away before my eyes. I'm scared, and I can't fight back this awful feeling that this is not going to be the happy ending I imagined. Im terrified that he's not going to become well again, and instead, continue to decline until...

I pray that is not what will happen.

I can't help but be completely terrified that the man who has been my father for 17 years- my protector, provider, and friend, could leave me. I'm not ready to let him go. Not now. And that's just it. I have to be. His tomorrow is not gauranteed. Not like mine. So I have to be ready. I am being forced to grow up, suck it up, get over it... become numb. Because if I don't, I mean, try to surpress this feeling, then I could feel, and that, right now, would be the worst thing possible. So I am trying... I mean honestly trying to ignore this sad inclination. Denial has become my best friend. Keep smiling and pretend that him leaving is no possibility at all. Keep running away, Ari. Keep running.

But lately, what I've been running from seems to keep on catching up to me, and I don't think my legs can hold out for that much longer.

I don't think my heart can either.

I can't handle this. Not on my own. God, what is this? Why? I can't see your idea in this. Your plan is lost to me.

The other day, a friend said that it might be in God's plan that my dad does not become well again. I'm trying to cope with that. I'm trying to understand. But I can't. It's to hard. I'm not ready to lose him. 

 I hurt.