that which i lack

I am not deep. At all.

Ent once told me I was. I said I wasn't. We back and forth for a little bit, and then I said something like, "oh, okay, I'm deep."

But I was only saying that so the "debate" would stop.

Ent I am not deep.

I read a bit from your blog today, and liked it, but the second verse was difficult for me. And the comment was also hard for me to digest as well.

All this reminds me (in that strange way thoughts have of reminding us random snippets at odd moments): Do I really want to be a writer? Am I even any good?

And this reminds me (in the same way): what is the point of writing? what is the point of performing an occupation you love? wouldn't you just get tired of doing the same thing all the time. Life seems to be the same way too, it seems to repeat itself over and over again.

And then I thought: Life matters, has meaning, because of God. We live our life for that which is after life.

That may not be the whole point of life, but if you think about it in the context of the paragraph after the last one, it makes sense.

I'll have to run it by Father Costa to be sure.