shriveled

I know.

I know that no excuse for not posting anything at all in six long weeks could get lousier and more dishonest than "I'm too busy." Or "I can't think of anything worth writing about." It's just that every time I'm distraught over my demented self I practically clam up and get tongue-tied.

The truth is, my sins have gotten in the way and clogged my brain-pipes with their unspeakable filth. My soul is numb and cold and shriveled and dead. My longing for Him who lives has long been extinguished to something I can hardly feel. I don't even know if it's still there or not. (Oh God I hope it still is)

And so my relationships with my friends who are half-way around the world have suffered because of my unwillingness to write and be accountable. Someone very dear to me wrote two heartfelt letters several weeks ago and I haven't even responded with a single sentence assuring her that I will be replying. I couldn't even write a short letter! (sigh) It's not hard for you to see how much more difficult it is for me to keep this blog from becoming as woebegone as it is now.

I'm really sorry, friends.