Not enough

It feels to me that this isn't enough.

I try to explain the concepts best as I can, and she agrees, but I don't know if she understands. I don't know if she thinks about them, because she doesn't seem to be terribly surprised. And terribly surprised is always a good thing.

When she does come up with a statement that contradicts the truth of the gospel, I immediately jump at it and try to explain. But as I open my mouth I realize I don't know if what I say is right either. I know what's presented is a farce, but I can't find a counter and I don't want to cause more damage.

Transference. I don't want transference. I just want the gospel preached and that's it.

I feel like I should be putting in more effort. I should be doing more than last minute recaps for two hours worth of theological expounding. Yet I don't. I swipe up on my News Feed, laughing at stupid cat videos. I tap on links to that Forever 21 sale with free shipping and spend hours trying to draw myself back from purchasing anything, only to do just that. I look at flight deals online hoping to score one that'll get me out of blasted Abilene and decide in the end I don't have enough money.

But I have no concern for the Word.

I wish there was someone here to guide me, to mentor me, but I don't. I am encouraged everyday 9000 miles away from here, but satellite-sent speech isn't the same as one's positive, pervasive presence. Something tells me I should be back there, but I am selfishly wishing I could take everyone with me to America. But I can't, and there's work to be done back home too.

I would wish it weren't that complex, but I'm starting to get a jist of what life is - complex. It's not suppose to be easy, and if it were, I doubt I'd want anything to do with it. It's funny how I pray for kingdom come, though I wish there was more I could do here. Who do I pledge my allegiance to, really?

I know I said I missed people back home. I miss her, and her, and her, and her, and her, and him, and him. I really do. But if I leave, I'll also miss this, and this, and this, and this, and that and that. When I'm home, I'm limited. I'll be a child again, I'll be in a cage again. I'll have expectations to succumb to, my overthinking might culminate into flesh and bones.

But here, I am free.

Or at least that's what it looks like.

I don't know really and I'm flustered.

Parallel

So this must be what it feels like staying in a relationship that neither party cares about anymore.

You want to put in effort, and you try, but time and time again, you find yourself shying away from approaching the other party because you're afraid. You had thought that by putting money on this, you'd have been wise - chaining yourself so you'd fulfill your obligations. But that's all it really is, obligation. You're there in body, but your spirit is gone. You don't know who they are anymore, and you ask yourself if this is worth it. Maybe, this is the end. It's time to give up.

So what's holding you back?

But quitting means losing a sense of belonging and efficacy. All you hear in your hollow head are replays of "At least it looks like I'm doing something with my life", overwhelming you over and over again. And what if things get better? What if I get better, what if I try harder?

But you don't.

And the other party. It's not like they care. They notice when you're gone, when you're not there. And they ask. But they still expect you to put your foot forward and fulfill their demands - demands you had somewhat deceived yourself into thinking were mutual desires you both had, a semester ago, when you entered into this relationship. You had expected something from it, but you reasoned that what they wanted was noble, and so you wanted it too.

And you didn't get it.

So why are you still holding on?

You're not really into this, and you never really were anyway. Your excuses are all made up and hold no water - you think by appearing in selfies and showing up for dates that you were still a thing, but you're not. It's all empty. It's all pretty, but it's all for show. It's a facade, a facade that pathetically masks the true nature of your parasitical penchant.

You want to reap the benefits, but you don't want to work for it. Or you think you can't, because it's too hard. It's too brutal. Is it really all that worth it? Is this the only way, to stay? Isn't there another way to be better apart from this?

Again, it's still about you. Ugh, you are tired of it being about you and your fickle, narrow mind.

What about that dress that you bought, thinking you'd wear it someday for the formal occasion? It will hang in your closet for a long time. It will run out of style by the time the next one comes along, and you'd have to buy a new one. And that dress will collect dust, and remain between the unworn, oversized blazers and wooly mammoth sweaters. Oh dear, what do you do?

It's just a dress.

There's no reason to stay. There's no reason to hold onto something you know you are not going to do anything about anyway. Why invest time and energy without purpose, without meaning? Just give it up and move on.

So I will move on. There's plenty of fish in the sea.

It was a nice idea, having service and community rolled into one fraternity. But that's all it will be to me, a nice idea.

I'm sorry, APO. I'm leaving.