A Shepherd and his 100 sheep walk among the hills of Judea. It is a warm pleasant day not too hot not too cold It is the perfect day for grazing. Ninety-nine of the Shepherds sheep have stuck together But one has left to do his own thing. He jumps and runs away from the herd Hiding from the Shepherd The Shepherd leaves the runs after the sheep searching high and searching low but then no more than twenty yards away he see it He bolts towards him screaming cheering crying He was filled with such excitement that it echoes through the hills. He looks his sheep in the eyes so happy that he found him. With his eyes swelling up with tears He gently picks up his sheep puts him over his shoulder an carries him back to the ninety-nine.
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? 5 And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders 6 and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep. (Luke 15:4-6 NIV)
“I would never be like those girls, they’re crazy.” Thats what I told myself when I saw every girl fan girling over some boyband. I always wonder why they have to cry even though their idols just tweeted a picture or releases a new song; music video. I always wonder why they have to waste their time to vote. It annoys me when they try their best to get their idols attention by spamming them. Fangirls get to my nerves, but I stayed quiet. I hated it. I hated them because they’re dedicating their life to someone who doesn’t even know they exist. I mean I like some bands, but I never ever did those stuff. "I would never ever.” I told myself. But one day, I woke up…
"Hi, we’re 5 Seconds Of Summer." Then everything started to change.
— *And then and there I knew… Im such an hypocrite.
Luke warm bath verse. Can your fingers live on my thumb peninsula forever I hope. You groom me and I'll dump the water over your head. Sit in front of me, I like the way it feels when it pokes your back awkwardly. It's weird to me, only your toes wrinkle. I can be the hot towel and kisses on your eyelids. The morphine calls my veins, while you don't call my name. Ours was unlike anyones. It still is to me and the trailing cries of women who I tried to **** my heart out of your hands. Like shucking emptiness from already emptied containers. I'm living for the day I feel your hands on my face again. Again.