I have no idea what is going on in life.

I wanted to write last night and my internet wasn't working. I hate that my internet doesn't work here all the time. Mostly it makes me miss writing here when I have things I need to work through. It doesn't work so well when I'm just writing in a word processor. I'm mostly afraid I'll lose it. My computer will die or a virus will spread or some horrible thing will happen and all my words will be gone. Yes, I back them up on an external hard drive, but this is instant. And then there is the feeling that my words ARE me. That if someone wanted to, they could just know me simply through these words. The truest, most honest version of myself. The version that isn't afraid of blushing or seeing that facial expression. The version that just wants to talk and be heard. I can be that girl here in this box.

I wonder sometimes what I look like to other people. And who I really am. Am I the person I see myself as? Because I know that I, and most other people, am painfully unaware of many things I might be. Am I the person other people see me to be? Because each one of them has a different Sarah Jo. Which is it? Maybe we aren't things that can be defined and listed and explained. Like trying to hold an armful of ocean water. Which direction is it going?

I feel like underneath my skin is just a giant vacuum of WANT. A force never satisfied with what I already have. I have learned so much. I WANT to learn more. I have become so much stronger, so much healthier. I WANT to be stronger, healthier. I get so much of his time and attention. I WANT more time, different kinds of attention. I have experienced so many beautiful, wonderful things. I WANT to see, hear, feel, experience, imagine, do more. Always wanting.

Of course I am often satisfied. Nearly always filled with this soul-deep contentment that is comprised of gratefulness, optimism, and joy. I am so glad for these people in my life. I love so much this new body that I have. Look at this car I get to drive and this bed I get to sleep in and how the sky has its own emotions and how the beauty of the natural world is so much that I can't even wrap my mind around it. I can't even fully appreciate it because I could never, ever see and understand the layers of detail. I am happy.

Books and movies give me this false sense of...sense. They end. And most of the time all the problems are solved and everyone is happy or they aren't. But there is a story line. The plot line runs like a seam through the story. Sometimes it seems confusing and you can't quite pick it out among the chaos, but there it is. A promise that the author is leading you by the hand. This will make sense in the end. Even if you hate it.

But we don't get plots. There is no rising action and resolution that leaves us feeling satisfied. And where does the story begin? No it is a series rising and falling. Starting over and falling down. Climbing up the next hill but you never climbed down the last. And here is a rope bridge over a ravine. Do you think you'll be okay? It does not make sense. Often we look back over the memories and create stories to help us make sense of our own lives. The stories of ourselves. But I don't know how much of them is true and how much is dependent on the memories you include, the memories you disregard.

I want so much to know how it all turns out. I wish someone could promise me that it all turns out okay in the end. Better than okay.

I spent time with Nika last week. I hadn't really seen her in a very long time. Spending time with Nika made me feel better about myself. She seems to see some person that is greater than I am when she looks at me. Someone witty and articulate and funny. She laughs at things I say and tells me I say everything just the right way. She delights over my facial expressions and calls me things like strong and wise and mature. And she tells me what she is feeling and experiencing in a very self-aware, insightful way. Like she can see the reason behind the madness in the world. Like she can pick out the lessons needed to be learned from every trial. And she makes me feel hopeful. Perhaps everything does happen for a reason. Perhaps it will really turn out okay in the end.

But mostly, she makes me feel like a person worth loving. No, like a person that deserves to be loved. Easy to love. Not someone who might find someone someday. No, like it is inevitable that some man is going to really see me and fall in love with me and want me. And we will get on each others nerves sometimes. We won't understand one another and have moments where it seems like a stranger stands before us where our loved one used to be. We will get angry and hurt and confused at the things we keep doing to one another. But we will find a greater love than we have ever known. We will find the kind of understanding, kindess, joy, and companionship that make living with another person worth while. She makes me feel like some day this man is going to see that greater person in me and I'll always, always be better for it. And I'll do the same for him.

I don't usually understand what is going on all around me. I don't understand what is going on INSIDE me most of the time. I sure hope everyone else is this confused.