come on, skinny love, just last the years

It's been awhile since I've had a real conversation with my father. Things have deteriorated to a state beyond which I thought there was little worth trying. I'm not too sure if that last sentence made any grammatical sense, but I'm done with the edits and the nit-picking. At least for this time in my living, I will let things be as they are instead of fighting the direction in which God is taking me. Or the keys which my fingers wish to kiss. 

My father and I shared a hearty laugh just now. We guffawed, if I may. And I relished that moment because how ephemeral it was, and how uncommon I know these moments are. 

I want my parents to say that they're proud of me. Not because of anything I've done but because of the mere fact that I am who I am. I think hearing them say that and actually meaning it would change everything. It would change how I feel towards them. It would change how I feel towards myself. 

And in this, I am absolutely honest.