ELIZABETH
I’m so tired.
It’s tough running on your own. Be it a race against time, or a race for freedom, liberation, answers, whatever it is you’re looking for - it’s tiring.
I need You. When the going gets tough I seem to remember You. When things are all rosy cosy I become the worst friend ever to You and I’m sorry.
You are not my vending machine.
Teach me that.
I will go for Easter. I hope nothing crops up ‘cos I really want to swing back (full-force of course) into the life You want me to live.
Yes, that means that my sorry excuse of a life has to go, and I have to let go and let God.
What can I say, actions speak louder than words hey?
