But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.
In exactly 2 wks I’ll be 20. How strange. I’m so young yet I feel old. I’m not going to be a teenager anymore.
Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.