I have nothing to say. I have all these thoughts but I have nothing to say.
I have been starting and deleting posts for weeks.
My job is exhausting. It is so extremely, unbelievably exhausting being nice and pleasant to people all day long. And then I come by to my room and study German and will myself to actually care about learning the language. It doesn't work, but I try.
To keep sane, I do art. I draw. I paint. I sing. I play piano.
I complain. I eat fro-yo. I watch way too much mindless TV. I do logic puzzles. I wonder if I'll ever make it out of this program alive. I sneak gluten until I'm sick, like I'm a little kid.
My grandma calls and tells me I need to come home and find a man to keep me. I tell her there aren't enough decent guys. She agrees.
I pray. I think about praying. I do research about praying. And then I pray some more.
Even though I have nothing to say, I still pray. Prayer doesn't require words. God doesn't need me to be articulate in order to understand me. So I pray without words, without saying anything, letting God listen to my thoughts, and listening to God.
I have nothing to say. And so I pray.