Hope

The lock-in has ended by a couple of hours now, and I feel odd. I am not loopy or depressed or confused or punchy. I am determined.

The lock-in was exhausting mentally and physically, and there were the same middle-vs.-high school arguments as there always are, and some new people that have never been to our church before, and some people trying desperately to make out, and way too much sugar. And I have decided. Rather than wait for a decision, I am acting. I have been thinking, and I want to change some things.

I have never reacted to grief in this way. Normally I hide myself away and write miasmatic poems about how I am the worst person. But I am not special, even in a bad way. No, I am making changes. I have already prepared lists and plans, just like Ben Franklin or Jay Gatsby, to make myself into a better person. I am sitting here looking at my body, seeing flaws as potential corrections. I see wounds healing.

There is no literary figure that I understand like Jay Gatsby. His inexhaustible search for improvement borne by an unquenchable love that transcends identity. I first felt this when I became a Christian, being changed and saved by nothing more or less than love. Now I have felt it again, and I am becoming something better. Something good. Anything less would be no fitting tribute for a princess, for royalty.

I have decided.