too many is too little

It took me minutes before words came out. Like I forced it. Like I have mustered all muscles and sweat. It wasn’t like the old times when thoughts were like fireflies that flicker endlessly. I really find it difficult to collect myself into writing when I’m alright. I’m alright? Am I? Well, yes I am.

The thing is, I’m still doomed with problems. I’m not off the hook. I guess I would never be. Problems just come and go. Life just goes on. Maybe I have learned to be happy with these things around me. That’s faith. That’s trusting the GOOD LORD that you are destined to be someone by choice. That’s believing that things are for the best. That’s not minding people who were born to give you misery. That’s letting go of friendships which are not meant to last, and being with the best people and friends who are meant to stay for a lifetime.

Some things are beyond our control. So why worry? So why freak out if you can’t do anything about it? Clearly, I understand the real meaning of letting go and trusting HIM and faith. GOD answers prayers. HE answers mine all the time. My problem is, it’s not always easy to recognize the answers that HE keeps throwing at me. That part is a task for me.

I kept on worrying that I would reach the most boring moments of my life while waiting. But now, I’m really enjoying everything that I have. I can do so many things and I’m not bored. It’s getting harder and harder to pick what should come first. And it’s starting to feel like I have no choice because of so many choices.

Sometimes, in my peace and quiet state, like when I travel with my office driver/bodyguard, I get to think of silly facts. And sometimes, I feel like laughing as I relive some of my personal history. Like when I got lost in the forest when I was a teen. Like when I acted so “maldita” even if inside I was laughing so hard that I could have released the loudest fart. Sometimes, I would laugh at myself when I try to remember the boys I’ve been involved with. I ended up realizing that I never had a non-smoking boyfriend. But I got drawn to the healthy ones (not that they are plural but I just want to be on the safe side). ;p Sometimes, I think of my personal adventures and I can’t but ask myself if it was really me in that piece of history. It’s amazing. And not that I’m proud.

I can go on writing. Even if I said I couldn’t bring myself into writing. Too many things to write, that I feel they are too little.