Stream of Conciousness

I wish I didn't feel so tired. I used to be able to write better, think better at night. Now I feel I have no clarity of mind at any given time.
I realize now that I want to return to Andrew for all of the wrong reasons. And here I am again, not feeling, except the longing to be accepted elsewhere.
I want to be better for you, whether you take me or leave me.
For a fleeting moment I felt better. I felt great, even. And then some girl took my laundry out of the dryer before it was dry and left it on the counter. Suddenly my mood was foul again.
Such a struggle to sit and read Romans 12 and feel so far from being the living sacrifice that loves her enemies and strives to be renewed. How bitter I am with myself for always, ever falling short.
Why are the good guys so few and far between? And why am I so tempted to settle for less?
It seems that the more I think about my own depravity, the more I experience guilt and self-loathing. Christ came for the sick. In experiencing the depravity, I am tasting His grace and mercy, renewed every morning. I have become quite the pessimist.
My Lord and Savior died for me. I am His, and He is mine. Despite the fact that I stray so far, so often, His grace is unending, if not more abounding, when I am feeling so low.
Taste and see that the Lord is good...
He is good. I have just been swallowing whole, and not taken the time to taste Him.