I'm going through something. My soul feels empty. I don't know how to explain it. I just feel like I'm missing something.
I would like to sit in a Paris-like garden and learn how to paint. Or maybe climb a mountain in West Virginia and breath in the air as I sit and take in the fall colors. Or go kayaking with my dad down a river in Alabama. I want to go on an adventure. I want to clear my thoughts and my heart. Because right now, I'm struggling and irritated. Everything around me seems so silly and sad.
I have a thought... This didn't occur to me until just now (which is why writing is so therapeutic and great for me). I love my house, but I hate my surroundings. I feel like I live in the middle of trash. As soon as I get off my exit, my commute home is littered with boarded up apartments, females with bonnets and ill-looking outfits on, and dirty looking niggas playing in the middle of the street. There's a darkness and a sadness surrounding Congress Heights. I see no hope. No majesty. No calm and peace. So my house is my haven. My cheery, bright, airy, promising haven. The good thing about this experience is that I've learned my lesson. Even though my street may be nice, I need to take into consideration what I need to drive through to get there.
Contrast. That's what I need. A contrast to what I see every day. My soul needs to feel hope. And I feel there's no better way to get that than to be among Jehovah's natural creation. To sit and feel, experience and breathe in what paradise might be like. I need to be swept up in peace.
Who knows when that'll happen.
I'm sure this feeling was helped by the fact that there was a fight brewing between MJ and I on Saturday. Neither of us knew what it was and didn't care to figure it out.