I'm beginning to forget what it feels like to be afraid.










and i love it.

Goodness,

I've got it bad.
I'm just ridiculously grateful that it's mutual.

Do what it takes to work through this appropriately.

DMM

It's silly, you see, because this week you've decided that you're a genius
And I've discovered I'm a mental work in progress.
And progress is a word I use a lot when speaking to you.
So for me to shut the door and not give you any room to grow, step forward, and progress when it comes to us,
Would make me look like a hypocrite.
But here's my dilemma, Precious to me, I'm terrified to lose you, and I've not yet had you. How does that make sense?
I am putting myself out there and all you do is watch. You let me in when you need warmth, but every other time I'm left out in the cold.
And it's smiles all the time, isn't it? It's butterflies when it's necessary and playful banter when our eyes break contact.
I want you closer, but you won't swoop in. I gave you the invite but you've forgotten to RSVP. And it's fine, dear boy, if that's how you are. It's fine if you have to number things to know what comes next. It's fine if I'm more of a chore than a playtime. It's fine if you flake, I understand completely. If that's how you are, then I accept and move on.
I can't make out the figure which you stand. Who do you wish to be? Where is your footing and in what direction do you mean to go?
Here's the thing, I need you to fight. And that's cliche and whatever, but if you want it come get it.
I have to find the courage to be fine without you. Without the idea of you, and face the fact that you very well might just walk away. And that's fine. I swear it, it's fine.
I've already gone forever without you, difference now is that you've left jittery footprints all over my heart and I don't ever want them to leave.

Confession:

I really don't want to be alone this Christmas.

Vent what you feel:

Unimportant
Loved from a distance
Forgotten
Taken for granted
Used
Like I need to earn dads love
Vulnerable
Nervous
Anxious
Stiff
Uncomfortable
Sad
Angry
Frustrated
Like I'm thinking really clearly
Victimized (Stupid)
Stressed
Bored
Alone
Freezing
Poor
Sick
Mistreated
High maintenance for awkward reasons
Caged in
Dreamless, which is hopeless
Messy
Emotional
Mental on some days
Dizzy
Shaky
Uninvited
Tied down
Growing pains
Writers block
Dramatic
Not ready
Overwhelmed
Restricted
Thoughtful
Packed
Awkward
Unfriendly
Soft
Cramps
Stupid
Like I lack inspiration
Like I can't laugh
Like I need something and I need it soon
Like I want a fucking cigarette
Or something strong to drink
Personal
Distant
Lack of confidence
Creative
Overlooked
Like I don't matter
Like I'm worth it but I'm really not sure
Too romantic
Panicky about Christmas and the New Year
Ridiculous
Disconnected
Disabled
Sick of waiting
Like letting go of all of the above.

Growing up

does not take as much time as you think.

I would love a glass of get the hell over it.

My dad writes me off like I'm a fucking six year old.
Even though he treats me like I don't matter, I know that I do.
Though he thinks I wreak of disobedience, and lack knowledge of the world-
I know where I stand and Who I stand for. And he has no idea.
No matter the fucking mistreatment my father bestows (bestows, Jenelle?) upon my family,
I'm not going to let it dictate my heart and my trust in humanity.
How horrible is it that the life figure God has apparently given me, that's supposed to lead me and represent strength and Christ in my life,
Is the one person I should trust, but can't. Should follow, but he loses me in his insignificance. His "Christ-like" calling has yet to be answered. Building my foundation as a young woman, he has already begun to fail.
And it's sad, you see, because I am the smarter in some instances. I am the adult when you consider the sacrifice and relationship between father and daughter.
I finally understand that people are poor excuses for problems. Let me explain myself:
Now that I am aware of my trust problems, my daddy issues, my pride based lack of dependency, and my aptness of implosion due to over exposure to intensity and power, I forfeit the right to blame the people that have planted these seeds. They are my problems now and labeling them with name-tags isn't going to make them go away any easier.

Gosh, I'm stuffing my emotions.
They're compacting.
They're fighting with each other.
They're plotting their way out of me.

And Oh my God, that man is stressed...

Screwwwwwwwwwww

I hate this
I hate this
I hate this
I hate this

set me free set me free set me free set me free

Starved.

I have these days, you see,
Where my mind mocks me and I'm too weak to fight back
And too strong to let myself down easy.
And it's ridiculous, and all in my head.
Or perhaps a manifestation of my past.
I talked with Mackenzie tonight and almost had a melt down.
How am I to do this? How can I not break down in front of one of the few people I trust?
It seems hopeless. When I finally connect with the emotion I need to let out--I shut it back in.
I quickly close the zip-lock, keeping the freshness of the feeling deep inside this bag I call a chest.
Man, am I quick. Man, do I know the right words to say, and the right combination to avoid.
I need counseling. But what I really want is just a fresh start. I can't erase what's behind me, even though I try.
It's hard for me to define my own thoughts from The Enemies voice in my head. Perhaps they've synchronized.

Lord God,
today was battering, and I would love to be filled up with fresh waters.
I love You (:

Mental Ventilation:

I plead my mental state as malnourishment and social deprivation.
My lack of motivation is more or less that I don't know what to do.
Mood swings are due to constant emotional teases. Roller coasters. How cliche of me.
I feel every one of my ribs squeezing to keep my spine from bending.
When will Dad explode
When will mom break down
When will Kinsey lose me
When will Brit and I see eye to eye again
When will I see Dom again
When will Christmas morning be here
When's the next slip up
When will I get out of this funk.

I hate to view myself as a pretender, so I claim it as 'doing what it takes to get through. Smiling, laughing, shaking hands, positive eyes, etc...
But me, I'm not really all that okay. There's always a different feeling slithering in my belly.
I am too dramatic about life.
Seriousness is what defines me and it's stupid.

I feel like I'm constantly waiting. Anticipating. Anxious. I'm missing something. There's a hole somewhere in my being and I haven't located it yet. I just know there's a leak and I'm losing myself through it.

I'm sick of being this.
JENELLE, JUST CHANGE.

But what changes are necessary? I am obsessing.
I hit no extremes except for hopelessness and that's retarded.

I have loose ends and stripped bolts and unfocused lenses.
I'm out of control. I'm out of control. My feelings are out of freaking control.

I'm always trying to fix myself. Jenelle, there's always something wrong with you.
That's how I see it. Progression. Freaking progress, Jenelle.

I have this problem,
And it's that I can't bring myself to love myself when I'm in need.
Buck up, that's all I can think.
You're being dramatic, let it go.
It doesn't matter, time will fuse your wounds shut.
Just wait. Be patient, Jenelle.
There are bigger problems. Oh, how I love to compare.
Roller coaster, I'm out of control.

What do I mean. What am I saying?
Life is beautifully complex. Simply hard, and hardly simple.

My lungs are gripping at my chest. Expanding, searching for fulfillment.
Failure. Hah.

Holiday's bleed right through me.
It's fine.


Be happy. Be happy. Find what makes you happy.
Be free. Get free. Feel free.

Stop being anxious,
Stop surviving,
And l.i.v.e.

I suck at this game.
This jerk is bleak.

KAH

I hate that my love can't save.
I hate that I have to watch people hurt and kick and scream and die inside before they reach for the Ones Love that can
She inhales life through pipes and fumes. Exhaling her existence and seeing it as a whole, not as a single heart dying to be found.
But she knows where she is, right? She understands that this life she's living is full of filth. And she's fucking terrified, but more thrilled than anything else. And she lies to loved ones. Laying down friendships that she'll never see again. People change, even if she decides to stay the same. People move on, even if she can't let go. And she's left in the dust, and rightfully so.
But oh my God, why can't I save her? Oh my God, why won't she turn? Oh my God, why won't she stay? My words fall flat because she's made up her mind, but I don't stop speaking. My words fall flat because she's made up her mind, and understands that her mind is corrupt and causing her slow death. She knows this. Her face is not the same. Her heart is barely recognizable and I'm hating watching her be destroyed.
But what can I do? If my love can't save her? Love is the strongest weapon I have, it's the biggest, most valuable thing I can give. And I give it to her. I pour it out to her. She repels it.
I can't make her love herself. I can't make her let go. I can't lock her up and keep her safe. No, I fucking can't. It's not in my power and I hate it.
It's been up and down for years and years and I can't get her to stabilize. Consuming herself in her own sickness. Manipulating life to form to her body. She releases connections and labels everything. Understanding that labels don't make things what they're labeled.
I want to see her healthy again. But I'm afraid we've not seen the worst of her.
Mercy, oh God.
I embrace her, and I'm loving a ghost. I kiss her, I'm kissing a killer. I speak to her, and she hears and seers a different way.
She gets it but won't hold it. Fucking hold it. Drop your shit and hold what's worth it.
But you won't, will you? You'll continue to pursue death before you accept the light. Why?
Art screams liberation from all that she does.
What the hell is missing?
This isn't about me, but I'm involved. She can lie to me, I don't care. She can run from me, I don't care. She can do whatever she wants-but I'm here. I'm here for her and forever for her, if she lets me.
She's letting her demons become bigger than me in her life, already. I'll soon be pushed out. I can feel it. I know it's coming. And I hate it and refuse to accept it, but I understand it.
Why must rockbottom be the only way to convince people of truth?
She doesn't recognize influence, does she? Not mine, anyways.
I know what to do, but I'm just not sure if it's the right-est thing I could do.
I would hand her the world, if she asked for it. Brilliance is mans biggest curse. It roots stupidity and ruins us.
Imagination has died. Faith has lost value. There's nothing to believe anymore, says the world.
Robotic, we try and make ourselves. But Darling, we have hearts-so it's impossible.

Journey ahead, she'll likely walk alone. I can't go through the wilderness with her. I choose safety and life. She chooses woods of well known hells and fears that devour.

Save.

But I am here. Jesus is here, just turn around.