Crying on the bathroom floor. Here I am with a towel underneath me and a God above me. Crying. I feel alone, not because I actually am alone but because of the absence of the love that used to dwell here. And it’s incredibly hard to feel the fullness of this righteous love. When all that is good and pure is so hard to grasp. All the earthly love and feelings of completeness from inconsistent people block my view of love in its rawest form. I’m frustrated and stumped with God. The point is to know Him a little more each time I tear, each time I ruin myself- I’ll get to see Him build me up a different way. At this point in the process I have stopped crying and I still feel the hurt but I’m comforted. Nothing like running into the arms of the Father, even when you trip because you’re sprinting so fast and because it took me so dang long to get here (I knew since the start of the week that I just needed to talk to Jesus about this loneliness and lift it up but of course I stalled) it feels so freaking sweet letting Him just hug me with HIS PERFECT LOVE. FRICK.