I am a coward. I'm a coward because I cannot make up my mind, will not make up my mind, because I am ultimately afraid of being wrong. Instead of admitting that I have beef with Christian culture and religion, I sit tight and see if I can bear it.

I am a coward. I'm a coward because I try not to tell people I have had a headache for 6 months, try not to share that I'm in pain, that I'm weak, that I can't think clearly, that my heart is hurting because I can't live life without pain as a constant companion.

I am a coward. I'm a coward because I cannot reveal to those I'm first meeting that I don't have things in order. I'm afraid of being judged and wary of speaking my uncertainty clearly.

I am a coward and I wish I were not. But I'm not a coward for admitting it.

~Winter

We are ever eternally aware when we are at the brink of a great loss. We recognize the value of things in our lives most dearly when they are nearing their finale.

During these great endings, times of death and separation, we take part in a grand tradition, a ritual of loss and heartbreak. We share a part of the whole of humanity, become players in a broad act which represent some broad truth of what it means to be human. We morn and laugh, our feelings shifting like great ocean waves, changing forever, yet forever constant. We embrace our failure to obtain permanence, yet wallow in our lack of infinitude.

We are weepers, sighers, sad smilers, and truth tellers. We cry because we will miss the long days and pleasant nights, sigh because we know it must be so, smile because we are so very greatful, and speak truth because there will be no time for it later.

~Winter

Writing when I should be sleeping. I find myself here often and there is something comforting in it.

My mind is racing tonight about the future, about opportunities and brilliant changes and developments that are occurring in my life.

I'm falling in love with a girl who speaks so keenly and loves so deeply. She feeds a part of me I didn't know needed fed. Christina, thank you so much for all that you are.

Yet, for all that she is, I cannot imagine the burden she bears when she hears that I may be headed off to Turkey next year, instead of coming back from Oxford. How wonderful it is to fall in love and how terrible it feels for her and I to know that we may lose that love because of distance.

Best and worse still is the knowledge of the great change that will occur in both of us while separate. I will be a much different man than I am today, having grown from walked the world for a spell and her a greater woman for all the services she will perform for our little college.

I'm proud of her and scared for her and excited for her and wish so dearly that this time in our lives were more stable. It isn't so I'll take what stability and strength that I can gain from the scant hours I can snatch away from the coming future to spend time with her in this present. A great event is coming soon, a chain reaction that will send me way across the world and I have no intention of wasting the precious little time I have left with her.

~Winter