try to control the wind. betcha can't. God can. try to control the tides. betcha can't. God can. try to control Life. betcha can't. God can.
God controls the sea, the sky, the world. He controls me, you, and the other random little people. in turn, we control... nothing. fine by me actually. giant invisible strings that hang from the clouds and omniscient fingers moving me about. or little little peoples on thousand-fingered extremities. finger puppets. as long as i know im in good Big Hands.
so God controls everything. we agree on that. so how come i'm special. how come i get permission to screw up? i didn't freaking ask.
it's friggin alright. if You controlled me. my fingers wouldn't have frozen and stumbled. my voice wouldn't have cracked. everything would have gone fantastically. it would have.
but it didn't. and i have no one but myself to blame actually. and the main thing that's running through my head now? for being stupid enough to think that i was gonna be alright.
for actually believing in myself in the first friggin place.
SHIT. I SWEAR IF ANYONE ASKS ME ANYTHING ABOUT TODAY, I WILL WALK AWAY. TURN AROUND AND WALK AWAY.
