There is something about me that knows I will always be addicted to the thrill of provocative conversation, the deep deep deep down soul stuff.


I am no good at small talk, which is awkward for someone who works in retail. "Do you think this red dress accentuates my hips well?"

"Uhm, yeah it's fine, but how's your heart? You seem heavy today."

I have given up on being ashamed of feeling too much. I have decided to look at it like a gift. Something God wrapped up in awkwardly wrinkled packaging and smirked as he handed it to me. He knew I'd receive it as a super awkward present, something I wanted to claim that I liked but in reality just hid it behind all of my other gifts. But He also knew, that tricky son of a gun, that I'd come to know that it is rare.

I don't give two shits about small talk. Maybe that came off too strong, I do want to know about your day- but not in the way that you're telling me. I want to know why it hurt, and what color you would paint the sky if you could. What are the insides of your heart decorating with these days? Are they into glittering lights or dark spaces? I want to know every reason why you are only doing "good." Are you shy or is the inside of your heart shivering? I want to know every ache behind why you are doing "fine."

We humans get each other in a way that we do not take the time to recognize. God didn't put us all on this wildly spinning planet, squished up against each other for nothing. He did it so we'd be there, so we'd relate, so we'd understand as best we could. I don't expect you to retrace my steps and memorize my pain- but I do hope that you sit with me in my mess and do your best to say that you are learning too.

That's all.