This.

It's one of those sad rainy days. The kind where everything seems quiet except the thoughts in your head.

I read something one time about how life is this big poem. But sometimes the poem is very unpoetic and does not fit at all... it seems. And I feel like that today.
Sometimes I'm very sad because sometimes the truth is not poetry but something harsh and sharp and stabbing.
But you find it there. Truth is found in the silences of our pain and joy. Like poetry, we feel every piece of the unspoken, unparticular but ever moving truth. The one that doesn't need words because deep down inside everyone knows it. And the bad news always comes before the good. And truth somehow ties the tragedy and the beauty and the redemption of it altogether.

Sometimes it feels like everything is wrong and no one else ever believes that anything will ever get better. But sometimes I feel like there just has to be another person somewhere who believes that Jesus came to make us better people, the people he made us to be from the beginning. And then we are better people. Like a fairytale or something.

"Experience: that most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn."
CSLewis