Most of the time when I get scared, I write it out. Sometimes when it’s winter and I have to work harder to transition well in between how I feel, it can be a little overwhelming, especially as the weather runs its course. Anything outside makes me happy. It can be hard to sacrifice so much of my day for nature and the spring that will be coming.

When I get scared, I normally write. When I am most upset, I draw because there’s the emotion and no words. I don’t need words, although I cherish them. I am most happy, sad, or really “the most” of anything when I am silent.

I think about Him a lot. The boy I like. It’s weird, because if I call him a man then people think I’m talking about someone much older. But he is, because I love him, I guess. I don’t know. Those words never mattered so much to me, and I’d just as soon call him a boy because he’s cute. Cute is pretty great, I don’t want anything else.

I can be a diva, and sometimes I forget exactly what I tell when I tell stories. I write when I need too, I don’t always write when I’m happy, I normally just savor it. Often, I write to get happy. But writing for happiness sake never struck me as half as necessary until I loved that boy.

Ehh, what can I say, I’m not perfect. But I haven’t talked about why I like him very much.

You guys, he’s like all the best parts of all my friends as like an awesome mashup that is also cute. It makes me very happy to think about it. I started drawing to be happy, but you know what? My heart is always on him anyways, so I figured it would just be quicker to give it what it wants and draw about him. I am proud of who he is because he makes me smile. Either way, this is something that doesn’t scare me at all to put on the internet, because I know it’s true for a fact. I just like to think about him because it’s so much easier to smile. I don’t have to second guess smiling over this. There is a peace in my brain that takes over immediately; it’s like the doubt was frozen. I just like to sit and savor remembering things. It’s nice to not think.

If anything has been super awesome and super scary lately, it’s loving him (from a distance). I don’t know how not to wonder if it will spontaneously combust because I don’t know any better, but I can certainly teach my doubt to shut up by walking it through the same words and markers I always do. It’s nice, because even if I equivocate like a speedometer on the highway, I know that the smiles will still come if I think of him. It’s a gift I can’t quantify. It’s like utter sanity to know that nothing I can do will dissuade this; even if it was broken, I couldn’t fix it. Now that makes me smile.

I have a lot of dimples, I’m glad because the deeper they crease the more it’s really funny, whatever it is. I think I have grown new dimples lately, thinking about him. That’s okay. Think of it like a garden, I probably have more every week.

I took some pictures of what I drew. The biggest compliment I can give someone is telling them they are like the other people I love, because the people I love are my heroes you guys. They just are. I webbed out who he was to me, and then wrote it in an orderly list, and then drew a tree. It is like to sanity to see that on paper. It makes me less scared when I panic, no matter why I’m panicking. It makes me happy to think how everything is so blissfully similar, and how I love all the same things scattered across all of the people I love. It’s nice to think that we are all connected, if only by what we love about each other. I makes me calm, it’s like this invisible spider web safety net that is much greater than a parachute. If you fall, you will bounce, like a trampoline, you are not alone. That is what safety means to me. That is how I feel when I think of him. I like to think about the future, not because it’s my only choice, but because the past is dark and the present is somewhat skeptical still. I like to think about all the thousands of random acts of kindness that led to me sitting at this table. If its denial, then it is the sweetest web of happiness I could possibly invent, and dang, at least it isn’t hurting anyone. I don’t think love can ever hurt, honestly.

This list may not be how he sees himself. I know. But this is why I love him, and while he is doing his thing, it still makes me proud to think about him and why he is beautiful. It just does. It makes me smile.

Not all of these thoughts are people I know. Some of them are just something that I feel; some of it is just there. It’s a mash up, and it makes me happy. I know I have many more things to write in the near future, but this makes me happiest: to think about him. I can write about Paul and reality and scary things and the Gospel all day long, but when I think of him, it all still matters, but it matters in a way I can see. When I still debate whether he’s a Ghost, this is what makes me come back to earth. I am grounded when I remember that none of it mattered, and when I smile, I know it for a fact.

I don’t care how this ends, because I care so much. If I can still be this happy, I assume the happiness will grow as it has continuously. In Song of Songs, she talks about her Beloved. Solomon is probably hot, but man, so is he.

I’m gonna wrap this up so I can just share the pictures of what I drew. It makes me happy. I’m not putting his name on this, because that’s not fair. But I do love him.

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I am a second-grade teacher and pastor-to-be who loves people. I spend my weekends with friends or wandering the museums of DC alone and with a journal, trying to put words on the places of the soul that still feel wordless. I spent most of my days at school trying to learn patience through my students and running on sheer nerdy passion. I follow Jesus Christ, and savor that as my most important identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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