and as she walks
Who am I, that the Lord of all the earth
Would care to know my name
Would care to feel my hurt
Who am I, that the bright and morning Star
Would choose to light the way
For my ever wandering heart
Not because of who I am
But because of what You've done
Not because of what I've done
But because of who You are
I am a flower quickly fading
Here today and gone tomorrow
A wave tossed in the ocean
A vapor in the wind
Still You hear me when I'm calling
Lord, You catch me when I'm falling
And You've told me who I am
I am Yours, I am Yours
Who Am I, that the eyes that see my sin
Would look on me with love
and watch me rise again
Who Am I, that the voice that calmed the sea
Would call out through the rain
And calm the storm in me
Whom shall I fear
Whom shall I fear
I am Yours
the news
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
-6:01 PM
Sometimes, when you're drowning in the world, you tend to forget that people are still... People.
Little things you say or do affect other people a lot. Nobody, in the end, is insensitive. Humans are like that, maybe.
I should have known. Negligence on my part, that I believed, for a moment, that what I did or said as one unnoticed person would not make a difference. But everyone does make a difference, some way or another, indirectly or directly, and I think more than half the world don't realise that. If they did, would they change for the better?
Hm.
Anyway, I am filled with dread for my Science paper. GAH. I took it today, and it's a definite FAILURE. FAILURE>)*!~@:"
Last paper tomorrow, Maths. I always think I've done all I can on the subject, but it's never true. I could have, but I didn't! AND IT FREAKS ME OUT.
Yeah, exams make me nuts.
I should probably get on with my fictions. Some time.
Soon.
I was thinking about myself. Again.
I'm a narcissist, aren't I?
And I found out that I think about myself so much, I actually affect my own actions. That what I would have done, I did feeling proud of myself for doing it because I
knew I was doing it for someone, and that makes me feel like a hypocrite.
Make sense?
Never mind. I would probably get my point when I read this years later.
Til next time I think too much.
