Last night at Younglife it was my turn to give my testimony.

I have never half-assed something so horribly in my life.

I'm surprised I didn't tell them what shoe size I wore.

The response was, "sounds like you have a pretty perfect life..."

And I just said, "Yah, I love my life"

And to be completely honest,

I look at my life as something perfectly crafted. It is a masterpiece and I'm the finish work.

Yes, I've been through some heavy struggles. Yes, I've made my mistakes. I'm not so much ashamed about the things that have happened as much as I like them to stay in the past, and stirring that stuff up only makes me feel down.  The last thing I'm looking for is pity from strangers. 

Crucial details that make me who I am-remain somewhat locked inside of me. If asked specifically to open up, I can. But willingly letting people into the deepest most vulnerable part of my heart is a privilege I don't hand out freely. 

Trust. 

One foot in front of the other, Jenelle.

Keep going.

I have found myself looking back

and missing things and people that

are accurately placed in my past.

I keep being told "new chapter, Jenelle"

but I am still somehow in love with

the story that trails behind me.

I have yet to take a breather

while turning these pages

as fast as my fingers can.

Through the self-hatred,

self-mutilation, depression,

death, financial crashes,

neglect, education imbalance, 

lying and stealing,

drinking, waking up next

to strangers, chemical drugs,

losing friends, sex, broken hearts, 

cheating, pregnancy scares,

clutching on to "maybe" hopes,

the gossip, the loneliness,

stolen kisses, broken promises,

harsh words, false accusing, 

misunderstandings, 

failure to feel, failure to love,

leading on, face to face,

brokenness to brokenness.

New chapter, Jenelle.

Do not look back.

I am new...

Oh, Jenelle.

You probably need to apologize for unnecessary flirting.

sawwy.

(: list:

My weekend was beautiful.

My date to homecoming was sweet.

My ex-boyfriend finally treated me so good.

I had dinner.

I danced till my legs were sore.

My hair stayed bangin' the whole night.

I looked pretty cute.

There are a lot of really good songs on the radio right now.

My excessive texting has picked up again.

I for sure have a job at Coffee Bean and Teal Leaf on Tatum and Shea (:

I fell in love with all my girlfriends this week.

My relationships with both my brothers are building stronger and most trusting, daily.

Nick and Cora's wedding in approximately 8 weeks, and counting.

My car is running great.

I think I have more than two boys crushing on me right now. 

My best friend is (almost) dating a really amazing guy, and it makes me sooooooo happy.

I have goals.

I have life.

I have influence.

I have faith.

I have strength.

I have health.

I have wisdom.

I have Christ pulsing through my veins.

iLove.

Uhm...

I noticed today that I don't eat anymore?

Beautiful boy

I loved him more than anything else in my life.

My absolute world.

I tried to keep him, I tried so hard.

I meant to keep every promise I ever made.

I did my best.

And fought even when told not to.

He's never been capable of staying with me.

He destroys me.

Leaves me. Loves me.

I don't know what I think of him, who he is.

I fail to recognize my wrongs in our relationship.

I would be on your arm tonight,

If you could have toughed it out.

Instead, you gave me up.

I tried I tried I tried I tried.

I am so sorry.

Like you always say, 

I'll always love you.

Friday.

If you're given the chance to make a choice,

a right choice-what do you do?

Would you fight for what's right or just do what comes more naturally?

I wish things could be more distinct. Not necessarily for me, but for those around me, and those that have done wrongs against me. Your opportunities are seemingly endless, to make things right. But--there's only a level of right you'll be able to achieve once you've wronged time folded over time, and again.

If we could get things right, right off the bat, and I don't mean perfect, but the desire and the sacrifice to do the right thing, the heart that longs to have things straight no matter what the cost, oh my goodness, the broken heart rates would drop. How many suicides and broken homes we could save. But we yell, and we hurt one another. You were given the chance to rebuild something and make it stronger, and you destroyed it. How many chances do you get? 

Do you get as many as it takes to get it right?

It's those that fight for the good, that get screwed over. Because we're the only ones standing--therefore the only ones capable of being shoved to the ground. Keep standing, I beg you.

This is written to my no one's that will never read this.

God is doing something different inside of me, I think. There are so many things, and feelings, that I truly just don't understand. Maybe one day, though, yah?

I will always fight for what I believe is right. I will always do my very very best to protect and love.

It just hurts to know that the lot of you out there aren't willing to do the same.

I have been stand-off-ish lately, I'm pretty sure. I'm nice, but cut conversations short. I make eye contact and forget to smile. I mean to, though. Smile, that is.

There's that snake like feeling through the core of me. It kind of whips around my spine and makes my throat feel tiny. I'm not sure what it is. I don't know what I'm anticipating.

I'm not worried about things, I'm just... thinking about things.

And people. I'm thinking about people, mostly. And their well-being. 

I have never looked at myself as a people pleaser, nor will I ever be that. But--I will say, that I will (always?) do what it takes to make sure someone is comfortable and squared away. Protected.

Protection. That's a word that's been chasing me today. Not so much that I personally want to be protected (though I do,) I want to protect other people from the aches around them.

I've yet to pick up my cross today.

I'm never sure what that means until I do it. Then I get it.

Love is a journey that's been trying to creep up on me. It hasn't arrived at my feet just yet.

The boy lingers in his own thoughts. He won't share with me--though I'm dying for him to.

I feel mistreated, though I'm not being treated at all. Few words have been spoken between us in the past two weeks. He'll be the one to change that, won't he? He won't, will he?

It's nothing serious, the things that I feel. But if we talk and agree on it, they could be.

No pressure. I mean it. No pressure. If your world is too dizzy to find an in for me. That's fine. I'll learn to be fine with that. No promises, no plans. Just let me know.

Drop sister off at church.

Swing by the boys gig.

Swing by SCA's football game.

Swing home and dream  up something beautiful.

I am good today.

Strangely nervous. But good (:

Oh, Boy.

Today was one of those days that I ached for strong arms to fall into.
Someone to hold my face and tell me that everything is going to be just fine.
That yes, my father is a jerk, but not all men are monsters. Not all men are afraid, not all men are unfaithful-in all senses of the word.
You know, that boy that's stronger than I am? If such a boy exists, he must be mine.
I want to hear "I love you" and melt, and know that it's true.
I want to lock eyes with him and not be able to look away. I want to be treated exactly the way I should be treated. I want to not fear trusting, I want to be given the opportunities to be the brave girl that I am.
I want him to write about me.
I want him to dedicate songs to me.
I want him to call me cause he loves the sound of my voice.
I want him to pray for me every night, and text me scriptures every morning.
I want him to love me the way I should be loved.
I need him to do what's right no matter what the struggle or sacrifice is.
And to be honest, I don't think that's asking too much...

Because I'm worth it,

I swear.

Testing.

God never stops testing, does He?

It's an unending cycle til we're in heaven with Him.

The pain and the unfairness never ceases, does it?

Sense making hardly exists anymore. 

Love is all that we have. Knowledge and love are the only things that cannot be taken away from us by the world that surrounds us. God given knowledge and love. Our beliefs. The things we know, are the things we will have to cling onto. 

It's fine. I'm fine. I'm calm and at peace.

My mother is coming undone in the kitchen, on the phone with a mishap. 

Mistreated. It's fine.

Pick up your cross today, Jenelle.

It's fine.

So today

was a turning point for me, I do believe.

I got a job-Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Tatum and Shea (:

Stress level went from a 580 to a 20. So much lighter.

I finally accepted the fact that I'm GOING to homecoming. I'm starting to get excited about it.

All these weird dreams about Steve have been making me think a lot about my heart towards him, and trying to figure out where I need to be at when it comes to his name that's been carved in my heart. And you know what? I've become soft towards him. I don't know how he feels, nor do I care, really. But I think I'm going to be fine from here on out. His world doesn't make me feel crazy anymore. His nicknacks and childhood scars don't worry me. His life is his, not concerning me. But, with all that said-I want to be there for him as much as he is for me. Only, in a healthier sense. Because this feud between the two of us, that I've so willingly let make home in my heart, has got to stop. It's not a one-up game. Who's court the ball's in. There is no game anymore. The stitches are out and I'm healed. Memories, yes, but memories is all it is. And that's fine.

I reach certain points with Brittany, where I just fall completely in love with her. Yesterday and today I hit those points pretty hard. I love her so much and I think I'd be a mess without her. She's so precious to me.

I am grateful for the strangest things right now.

I love it.

I've decided that when I'm (somewhat) old(er) I want to open a used book store/coffee shop/bakery. It'll be quaint and I'll sell soup and home made crackers.

(:

Hello, Wednesday.

I've dreamed about Steve every night this week.

I don't understand it. He hasn't been on my mind; other than the fact that I've dreamed about him three nights in a row.

I feel like Satan is trying to rob me of my freedom. I'm in the home stretch on this one. But it's all these little pinches I find myself in. Ones with no connections to anything-but everything.

I don't feel emotional about any of it, although it is irritating. I don't want to miss something God may be trying to communicate to me. The dreams are simple, and plausible. Besides the first nut house one. They're just simple scenarios. No roller coaster type things happening. Just. Him, There. And the evident awkwardness we cannot avoid. 

Lord God,

if these are just meaningless bullets from the enemy to throw off my day-to distract me, I pray them ceased as of right NOW. 

But if I'm missing something crucial that I need to grasp and hold onto-make it clear, Father.

1:23PM

My mother told me that I need to start thinking about the things that I want, rather than just waiting around for God to physically lift me from my seat and place me where He wants me. I must locate where my desires have fled to. Because His word says that He will give me the desires of my heart. Looks like I've cheeped out and just dropped my desires.

Psalm 37:4&5 says this:

Delight yourself in the Lord; And He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your ways to the Lord; Trust also in Him, and He will do it.

So here is where I pinpoint my mistakes these past few weeks; being that I have been delighting myself in other people, finding my social life as my cling to. I have been freaking out, trying to regain control of my life, because I have been afraid. Somehow placing my anxieties on God. Not giving them to Him, but pretty much blaming Him because I've been faithless. Therefore, my works have been self motivated, not being done unto Him. As much as I've said I've been trusting Him, I have not. Can you tell? If I had been trusting Him, I would not be knotted up inside my chest.

Lord God, 

here is my prayer: that You would forgive my selfishness and lack of trust in You. My flesh has gotten the best of me lately, and I've let it scare me senseless. 

I am finding my way back onto the right path. Your path for my life. Proverbs 16:9 says that I will plan my ways, but You, Lord, You will make it happen. You will direct my feet and show me exactly where to go.

I rebuke this fear. I burry it along with all my insecurities that have been creeping up on me.

I am worth the fight. Christ died for me so that I wouldn't have to feel these things. So that I may walk into the light and be a pure bride for him to take as his own.

The enemy has been stealing my joy lately. Plotting to destroy what God has in store for me.

I will not be ruined. I will not be destroyed. I am strong, determined, and fierce.

All these silly distractions are meaningless. 

This is only a season, Jenelle.

Be free, for He has set you free.

Delight in Him, because He delights in you.

I feel like God is trying to show me something. But I'm missing it, maybe.

I had another dream about Steve last night, but I don't think it had any significance. 

We were in a wedding together. It wasn't weird at all. We were comfortable with each other, and we had other mutual friends that were also in the wedding with us.

Everything was fine and dandy. The second we jump in the car, he's sitting directly behind me-he starts rubbing my back, tickling my arms. Eventually starts grabbing at me. I'm weirded out. I don't know what to do. I play it off like nothing happened. I'm fine, right? Yes. I'm fine. Sure.

That's the meaty part of the dream. Most of what I remember anyway.

Yesterday I found something I bookmarked on my browser. It was last October. I was writing about where I stood in life, and a lot of writings about Steve. I have forgotten how much I truly loved him. He was everything to me. I was serious about being with him forever. My heart was set on it. I wanted nothing more than to walk into my dreams with him-not walk away from him.

Sometimes I think if that girl had known how much I loved him, how much I sacrificed for him, how much I'd do for him, she would never have done what she did. How could she? If she understood?

And then I think-Steve knew, didn't he? He knew I loved him. And he did it anyways. Despite my heart that was attached to his. His air was my air-and he deprived me of that.

But then I think, maybe I didn't express myself enough. Maybe if I had been different, if I had shown my love more. Said it more. Let him lead more. Made him feel better about him, and me. Maybe he would have stayed. 

Why did he choose the wrong thing? It wasn't me, it couldn't have been. 

But why did he do it? 

And then, the sex, was merely a slap in his face. Revenge from a broken, mentally unstable girl. 

That boy got exactly what he had been trying for. Always getting what he wants, and ridding everyone else of their personal rights and dignity. 

I feel like I'm past this, but it still kind of drags behind.

I feel like the cheating has been forgiven. I don't hurt about it anymore. I don't understand it, but  I forgive it.

January 15th was my bad. Triggered by his bad. I blame him, but I will take responsibility for my actions. I don't know what was running through his head, but I know what was running through mine. "Fine."

And now I suppose it is this: I don't know if he still loves me, but he's still tied to me somehow. And I know I could get him to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. And I'm not saying that in a bitch tone. I just know that his heart is precious and will always long to come to my rescue. And me? I know that the romantic love for him that I cherished and took such good care of, has died. I am finally okay with that. There is just so much that I don't understand. His stand on love is that love is everlasting-if it is real. He claims a real love for me, but he couldn't stand strong enough to prove it. He tested me like I've never been tested. Challenging my words and my love even after he had cut me off. I'm not the only one that broke these promises. 

It was high school love. It was precious and adventurous. But it crashed hard, and burned, melting everything into the dirt. 

I see him this weekend. It's always a different emotion when I see him now. I'm not looking forward to seeing him, but I'm not dreading it. Last time was a disaster. This time-there will be a hello and hopefully he won't do anything to hurt me. He wasn't the best at being a boyfriend, but he's even worse at being an ex.

I wonder what he says about me.

As sluggish as I feel, I know I'm pulling out of this-now. It's like the tiny remnants left in my heart, the shrapnel I couldn't pluck out before, is finally bleeding itself out of me. 

I think sooner or later I'm going to need to hear/know/realize the wrongs I've done through this process. I've asked him a million times if I've done anything to hurt him. He always says no, that I've been so good. But now, I can't help the feeling that he thinks differently.

I've definitely said some things I shouldn't have. That very well may have found their way back to his ears.

I am sorry.

Come find me.

Someone gentle, striving to represent the image of Christ.

I don't care if he's little, as long as he's brave.

Hard working. I'd prefer cute over masculine.

Dark features. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin.

Artistic, prefers to create rather than destroy.

Wordy and honest. Flattering and straightforward.

Protective and smart. Steady hands. Stylish.

Physically safe. Never applies pressure.

Someone who gets lost in their thoughts.

Independent. Drama-free. Passionate.

Knows my limits, and encourages me to test myself.

Writes. Teaches. Understanding. Quiet. 

Takes jokes. Gives jokes. Laughs hard.

Has silly quirks. Strange mannerisms. 

Big, fun family. Oldest child, preferably.

Careful with me. Asks lots of questions.

Ministry. Travel. Kids. Survivor. 

Not picky, but knows what he likes.

Adventurous, willing to try anything new.

Deep. In love. Simple. Clean. Smiles.

Ready. Open. Firm. Calls me out.

Says goodnight at a decent hour.

It's fine.

I am really enjoying posting things that I know no one will read.

Is that strange?

Is it stranger that I ask questions to no one?

Most likely.

It is indeed Sunday afternoon. I have work in about two hours.

I had no invites to do anything this weekend. Maybe that's fine. It's fine.

I think I've decided I'm going to write every time I feel like writing.

I can't tell you how often I don't write because I think people will think I'm obsessive.

But lets face it Jenelle, when it comes to writing, you LOVE to be obsessive.

Have I lost my edge? I sure hope not.

I've been told countless times that My writing is something amazing. It's different and captivating.

Is that true, do you think? I'd love that to be so.

Journalism.

I don't even really know what that means.

But I want it.

I've been thinking about doing my own home studies-grammar, writing, english, etc...

I think I will. I want to become a phenomenal writer. Someone that slays people with a mere sentence. I want to move hearts by the words I puzzle together. My connect between heart and head are my fingers. My hands. My writing. I hope it's something abstract but understandable. Relatable. Can I make a difference with my words? Silent words, that is.

Books? Will I write books? What will it be? 

I know three people that want to work for National Geographic. Now that is the desire of my heart. To write articles and take pictures of the happenings around the world, and educate this retarded nation on what really matters and needs to happen. Our money should not be put into giant light sabers stretching into the sky, just to show our superiority. I'm sorry, art comes from creative minds, not from egotistical pockets. That's fine. Whatever.

I have been ridiculously intense since Wednesday. I am too serious. I know it. There are certain people that put me at ease. But for the most part, I'm high strung and sick of smiling at people that don't smile back. That's not me, though. My goal in life used to be to make someone's day, everyday. Not in an obsessive people-pleasing way. I just find such fulfillment in making people smile. Strangers, friends, family, whatever. I would go out of my way for anyone at the drop of a hat.

Now, I'm the bitch that screams "let me in!" when I'm driving, and wait for other people to open the door for me when entering a building. What the hell Jenelle?

It's fine, whatever.

I am sorry, dear blogger, for overflowing this silly box with useless thoughts. At this point, that's all these are. No one will read, no one will be moved. That's not fair to me or anyone else, wouldn't you say?

If I were in a different country, not having to worry about the stink eye I would receive from the people around me, I would scream all these things from the highest point of anywhere. 

I am intimidated by pretty much everyone. I feel like because I have not been "properly schooled" that means I'm not qualified for an intellectual conversation. I have no legitimate facts to back me up. I just have this outrageous passion burning in the veins that I am powerfully vibrant about.

I am beginning to see the insecurities in me that I didn't know were there.

God, give me the drive to speak up and out about the things I believe matter. No, that I KNOW matter. So what if I step on some toes, right? I'll stomp the shit out of their toes. 

Do something with me, God. Please. Help. Outlets. Expressions. Opportunities. Me. Please.

Who do I talk to? Where is my connection to the ministry force? Your force through me? Where? When? Now. Please?

Please.

I'm going to go wash my face, and put on too much make up.

---Jenelle.

Dread.

My dream last night was this:
I was traveling a really long distance back home (I have no idea where I was coming from) and I was in what seemed like a crappy motel room. I decided I needed a shower-but weird things kept happening. The water kept going cold-doors I know I closed, would all the sudden be open, and I was hearing weird sounds. Completely freaked out. So I try to grab my stuff to leave, but everything is unpacked and all over the floor. So I grab whatever I can, and slowly walk into the hallway. There are other people awake, (it's like 4am) all girls though, for some reason.
I ask one of the girls which way the exit is. She can't make eye contact with me and seems very distracted. She answers me anyways. She tells me to go left. Wrong directions. I come back to her and she's still got here eyes fixed on nothing. I think she was wearing a football jersey. I ask her how many fingers I'm holding up. (I hold up two fingers) She says, "That's a three" and continues trying to focus her eyes on something. I decide to find my own way out. I find the exit, but now I'm in this overgrown courtyard standing in dead grass. This man comes up to me. I have a feeling this isn't a motel. He tells me my parents sent me away to an insane asylum because I am crazy. He won't tell me why though. He hugs me-now I'm at a concert.
I somehow managed to escape? I am not sure.
I remember that I want to go back-so I do. I find my way back.
Someone that represents Steve is standing on the other side of this gate. He too, has checked into this place. We're talking through the gate. He is what I came back for. I keep asking him to come out and escape with me. But he won't. I don't understand. So I crawl back through the gate, back onto the asylums property. I hug him so so tight. I see two girls standing behind him. A young girl and a girl more my age.
All of the sudden this dream makes sense to me:
The little girl was doesn't exist anymore-and I kept seeing her places, that's why I got sent to this loony bin. The older girl, from what I thought, was Steve's girlfriend who also no longer existed. Him and I were close because we had both lost someone close to us. But then I realized that the girl was me. His girlfriend that I thought had died, was me. He came to stay with me in this crazy house because he loved me, and it ended up driving him crazy, too. And it all clicked in my head. I was flooded with emotion. Completely overwhelmed. Even now that I'm awake, I'm still a little flustered. It's like this unhealthy state of mind is okay with him as long as him and I are together. But the little girl, was me when him and I met. Innocent and eager. The older girl was me, unhealthy and broken. But I am free now-and need not to look back. I have to leave him here, in this ill place. I've asked him to come out, haven't I? To get healthy. But he won't. He won't. And that's not mine to carry. And I don't want him thinking he's caused a mental illness in me-I am free of it all. And walking forward and healthy.

My heart pounds in my ears.
I don't know what any of that means. But it was a scary dream to say the least.

Okay, well, it's Sunday morning and I need to get ready for church.
Don't wanna, but gotta.

I cloud into my bedroom,
Hello striped walls.
Daybed smiles forwardly, into me, crawl.
I try desperately to breathe out my anxieties.
But I'm overtaken by societies
inability to make me whole.
Cold.
The whining inside my head
dulls my character.
Dare I open my mouth and express what I feel
What I fear
What I dare to attempt to deal.
Oh, but instead I sulk, don't I?
And the enemy, he lurks, doesn't he?
Definitely, he won't let me be.
So I press forward into this mess we call earth
And pray to heaven that this dream, I will birth.
Because waiting on sunshine,
and sipping on red wine,
is not enough to subdue my soul.
I unfold myself onto a piece of paper.
I staple my thoughts under the ink.
I can't blink.
Encouragement sweats out of my body.
Blotches of emotional paint cover my fingertips.
I try to create from this pain.
These fleeting thoughts,
this dot-to-dot picture that won't take shape
has been nothing but something I wish to escape.
But it's my life. This strange puzzle with too many pieces
is my work of art, a love that never ceases.
Fragile one,
I lay myself down.
Clutching vanity,
I let myself drown.
I pray for hope,
Receiving is a must.
Letting go of material,
leaving lifelessness in the dust...

Nice, Jenelle, nice.

Hey hi, hello. Blogger. Blogger, weird.
It is Saturday. My weekends have been dull lately. Because I work. I love to work. But I also love to hang out with friends. And people know that I work weekends, so they don't invite me to do things. At least I hope they know I work weekends and that's why they don't invite me?
Whatever. It's cool.
I'm not one to speak out about how I wish to avoid conforming. People with such opinions irritate me. Because we all conform in one or more areas of our life. We all live in the same world, and lets face it, society has our souls in a vice and every time we turn on the television, we're giving it more room to influence us.
With all that said (hah) my lack of conformation (if that is the right word to use) is that of which finances are involved. And voting and the whole game life plays with stocks, and gas prices, and taxes. Who invented that bullshit anyways?
Why are we measured by our wallets and physical stature? Who the fuck cares.
What does it take to sculpt people to be someone more than just existing? Existing is not living, and if you're not living, you might as well be dead. Nice, Jenelle, nice.
And there's where I fall in line. I am just existing. I am measuring myself by my wallet. Which currently has $2 in it. My physical appearance is growing more and more important to me. And guess what? So does everyone else's. Nice, Jenelle, nice.
But that's not me. No, not at all. So why do I feel like I HAVE to shift myself into the typical American role of life? My hair must be perfect and my money has to be in order.
You know what I want?
I want to shave my head, burn my car, quit my job, and put my hands on those in need and pray without ceasing.
Pray without ceasing.
But I am caught up in a rouge, feeling forced to be what I am. I am hating what I am.
And it's not a BIG deal. It's just a deal. A deal that I've been tricked into making. So eff me for that.
Lord God,
I keep praying for change. I have become that lazy Christian that prays for things, but won't try for things.
I have excuses that could convince the highest of authorities. But I can't fool myself. Or You, for that matter.
I just don't know how to put THE right foot forward and march...

Dress shopping with brothers fiance.

x

My tumblr has been overtaken by SCA-deep-as-toenails Senior high girls, and boys I don't want reading my thoughts.
So here's where my thoughts remain secret, I suppose. Until my social world comes bombarding into these written vent sessions as well.
I have come to realize that I'm not doing anything I want to be doing.
I want to dance. I am not dancing. I want to write. I am not writing. I want to work with kids. I am not working with kids. I want to make a difference. I am not making a difference. I want to go to school. I am not going to school. I want to travel. I am not traveling. I want to create. I am not creating.
So what do I do, though? How do I make time for the things I want to do? I can hardly figure out how to do the things that are necessary to survive. I have lost touch of understanding and willingness to walk without a map and/or plan of some sort.
I'm sick of who I am and the things that I do/do not do. I want some legitimate change. I want miracles and bombs going off. I want the passion in my joints to get me moving.
But I can't help but think that this is exactly where God wants me.
Why though, God? Where the hell am I? I am squeezing this season for all it's worth, trying desperately to learn and grow from whatever this trial may be. But what is it? What am I learning? What have I to prove?
And my heart races, and my face melts. I lift my hands but I can hardly stand. I dread the next morning because I have no promises. Or do I?
And the things I look forward to, collapse beneath my sore little feet. Hope is unseen. Like literally, it's not there, really.
I am finding constant insecurities and being unable to socialize appropriately.
Oh my gosh, the heavy things on my mind.
And then my thoughts race back to the fact that I'm not the only one working hard.
So I keep my mouth shut. And when people ask if I'm okay, I am wonderful. Because who wants to deal with one more person that's having a bad day? I have the tendency to stop loving myself. I am worth more than I give myself credit for. I am aware of that. But I won't step up and take what I think I deserve. Unless it is of the negatives.
Where is my family.
I hear giggling in the other room. I am still in my work clothes.
I'm waiting for my freaking phone to vibrate. Tell me Friday isn't blown. (But it is, isn't it?)
A shower is necessary but not necessarily wanted. My iPod is MIA, as usual, and music is the only thing that I enjoy about a shower.
I haven't had a legitimate conversation with my dad in months. That's fine, I guess. I need his approval. Though it's something not easily asked for. It's something given (or not given) without a request.
I am beginning to realize that the reason for my writing decrease, is because I'm afraid of what people will think if they know what they do. If I spill all my thoughts out without holding back, what will people think of me? It's not so much that I'm afraid to be judged, because lets face it, I will always be judged. It's more or less that I don't want the text messages asking if I'm okay. I'm not looking for a shoulder to cry on or someone to hold my hand. And then there's the flip side. I don't want people telling me I'm a cry baby or thinking that all I do is whine.
Encouragement is all I'd ever want from someone. I'm not trying to milk anything or get anything from anyone.
If I could go anywhere right now, it would be the most dangerous part of the world.
If I could see anyone right now, it would be Dominic Miller.
If I could say anything right now, it would be: freedom, passion, power, love, & romance.
If I could have anything right now, it would be peace, understanding, and a deeper connection with the Holy Spirit.
If I could change anything right now, it would be everything about my life.
If I could grasp anything right now, it would be Gods plan for my life.
If I could be anyone right now, it would definitely be me.
Maybe that's too many if's. And maybe they're all ridiculous and un-doable.
But there it is.
I thought this huge typing spree would make me feel better.
But it has not, not at all.
Where has my outlet gone?
Expression has lost it's face to me.