shadowed side of a mountain

I moved to Virginia 23 days ago. Of those 23 days, I've cried a good 20 of them. Let's put to the side the fact that I'm living under a management company with the poorest customer service I've ever heard of, that the tenant before me was evicted with over $700 worth of debt to various utility companies and the landlord, the incessant bass beats that rattle my windows at night, the smothering temperatures in my bedroom even long after the sun goes down, or the ever-so-slight fear of being watched, or followed, or spied on through the gaps in my mini-blinds by the stoop-sitting-smokers. Let's not pay mind to the canvas on which the image is painted, but to the image itself: I'm alone here and I'm sad about it.

I would keep going and splatter my pathetic, emotional word vomit all over this page, but my own self-pity has disgusted me and I refuse to give way to it.

I asked God for this job and he gave it to me.
I asked God for a place to live and he gave it to me.
I asked God to be closer to Will and my mom and he gave it to me.
So I'm going to ask God to give me some peace of mind about sitting in the shadows of West Virginia sunsets, and gosh darn it, he's going to give it to me because he's been faithful before and he'll be faithful again.

So there.




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