I lost my name in a war

So I got a journal, finally.
It's got 400 pages in it. So I'm happy for a long while.

In the midst of everything that's been going on lately I think I've mixed up some of my priorities.

Today I opened a jar. A jar that smelt of salt water and clay flowers. The walls began blossoming with details. The ceiling grew vines and flowers. Below me was a sea of people far enough away to look like bugs squirming around anxiously. We were all staring in one direction. There was excitement stirring all around. Stars appeared in front of us and began to make music like angels. I'd like to believe that all of the people were opening jars, like me, in response to the beautiful stories. I drew pictures in my mind with curling lines. I couldn't believe my eyes, but they had never lied to me before, so I trusted them. Everyone trusts their eyes. But I closed them to put something in this jar that I am opening today. I did it just for this reason. So that I could open it later and empower myself with mood-changing abilities. The sounds and stories appeased me. Like remembering an old grandfather that I never got to know. And he sings, "you're the prettiest song I've heard in a while." And I caught it like she did with Ivan in that book I always used to read. And maybe I've come to be too in touch with this world. And after telling myself to get my head out of the clouds for so long, I almost regret it. I'd like to go back up there and visit my friends.

I know that nobody understood that, and well, that was kind of my idea. I haven't written like this in a dog's age and I needed it. It's refreshing and I'm not sure why. I guess it's just one of the mysteries of why God made me the way he did.