It's Sunday and I'm well dressed and hiding from the world. But hoping it might leak in through my window.
There is caffeine in my system, but even if there weren't, I'm sure my hands would still jitter.

Sedative. I want, I need.

Time for escape. A book, a movie, a conversation. Something. I'm going outside...

I am solemn and sulking. Slow and lack manners.
I'm waiting for the monster to awaken, to take me out to breakfast.
To be grateful is always on top of my priorities, but today it might be hard.
I've stuffed tears three times today already. It's 10:39am.
I'm starving and I'm confident he's still snuggled safe from the world under his floral covers my mother picked out.
I found a DTS program in Muizenberg Africa that focuses strictly on Journalism and media based off of a Christian Worldview. I am overwhelmed with joy and terror. I need financial courage and faith. I'm not scared to go, I'm scared to get there. I'm intimidated by the world in terms of writing.
I have to get out of here. I must. I will.
I have a missions trip I'm pulling for. Uganda, Africa. VBS in the Slums and building churches and home visits. Spreading Christs love. I have got to get out of here. I must.
There are many things I need to straighten out. Like my relationship with my dad.
Maybe that's the only big thing I need to get right.
Steve Fluharty text me on Monday night and flipped me inside out for about an hour.
And I've been dreaming about him again. Somehow, I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of the connection him and I have shared. I've done my best to disconnect it, but if reconnected, it will be a brutal pain. I need him good and gone forever. Out of my life and not any kind of thought/after thought/subconscious thought. That just cannot happen.
In my dream last night, he was grabbing at me. Just to have a hand on me. Not in a sexual way, but in a--I'm your boyfriend come here, kind of way. And I start screaming, of course. I'm swinging at him, trying to hurt him so he won't hurt me.
My mind is crazy when it comes to him. I woke up in the middle of the night terrified he was going to somehow magically climb into my bed. Terrified. Who is he? What is he doing to me? There is no communication between us, but I know when he's feeling me in his heart, loving me in his mind. I feel it, I swear I do. It's evil and I hate it and I want nothing to do with it.
I hate writing of him. It's the one thing I never want to write about, but it's the subject I have so much to say about. So much. Always. Get him out of my system, oh my God, please.

I'm starving. Wake up. Let me rip you a new one and lets apologize and be father/daughter again.
Ugh.



Someone please untie the knot.

Secret blogging makes me feel slightly insane.

Yes, that sounds about right.

I've never been the girl that wants the Knight in shining armor to come rescue her and live happily ever after, until now.
And maybe that's because you're the first boy that has refrained from babying me and telling me all the shit I want to hear. You don't sweep me off my feet or lull me in any way. You tell it to me straight. Your eyes aren't soft when they connect with mine. They're determined. You don't pity me or plot ways to make my heart melt when we touch. You just do your thing and let me do mine.
I'm not bashing. Hah, no, not at all. The opposite, actually. I hate that I love it, cause it irritates me.
And I want you to chase me, because I think that you should.
And I want you to take me out, because I think that you should.
And I want you to call me, because I think that you should.
And I want something about you to be unexplainably drawn to me, so much so that you can't go a day without some kind of direct connect with my heart.

But you don't and maybe you won't and even if that's completely true, it doesn't dull any of these desires you refuse to feed.

Grrr.

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.

Freaking freaking out.

I am shrinking
My best friend has lost the "best" title and is a stranger to me
My father makes me want to freak out
My exboyfriend haunts my fucking dreams, and every time he creeps up on me, I scream at him, I hit him, I hate him, I fucking hate him
My family is loose and weird and I miss all of everyone
The guy I adore, I have to admire from a far distance, because we will destroy each other with our hectic, self-loathing worlds. He's precious and I want him and won't stop til I have him-but I haven't started yet-so there's no need worrying about anything ever stopping.
I need a job but discouragement fucking drowns me and I'm scared and beat down and worn out and tired of trying. But I try
Christmas is around the corner and I need $700 or else my family gets thrown off of our car insurance. That hangs on my head. Ask for help, Jenelle. But I'm terrified.
Insecurity bloats my chest and it's physically visible.
Last night I spent four hours sitting to Doms left. That was the peak of it.
Everybody's got somebody and then there's me and the thought of him, us.
Everybody's got somebody and I need to step forward but I don't know how.
I need someone to lead me, to take care of me, but I'm Jenelle and everyone thinks I've got this under control.
I am out of control.
I need to jump in the shower but I'm obsessed with writing what I feel so here I am.
I work tonight and I'm glad.
I feel ungrateful, because I am.
I feel victimized because nothing else makes sense.
I feel weak and I feel vulnerable and no one knows or cares.
I want to see a psychiatrist but I have no idea what I'd say or how I'd do. Or if I could even be helped at this point.
I think about cutting but I won't do it.
I think about drugs to kill the emotion but I can't do that because it's wrong.
I think about sex and filling these voids with boys because they think I'm pretty, and for the most part that makes me feel good.
I think about how much I miss dancing and how it set me free. But I can barely move my feet across this house.
I think about publishing my writings some day but some day never really comes until it's here so what's the point of thinking about it.
My brother wrote this song, and I forget what it's called, but it says "Oh dreamer, come home"
And that's all I want to do. I want to be the dreamer I was, and more, and I want to find my home. Go home. Have home.
I never feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be. There is no satisfaction in my current position.
Comfortableness is not of my world. Not now, anyways.
I'm reading a book about a drug addict going through rehab, and I feel like him, but to a lesser degree. It talks about screaming and being lost in his head and feeling alone and clinging to things and wanting things and needing things but knowing that if he gives in to it, it's wrong and he's dead for sure.
And that's how I feel. This feels impossible and I don't feel like I'm going to make it, but regardless of how I feel, I have to do this. This, being-what is right. Avoiding the wrong and staying in the light, no matter how much it burns.
I am lonely and tired and annoyed and all I want is for someone to rescue me. To kidnap me and take me somewhere that doesn't matter, but means the world to me.
I want someone to take me out to coffee and just talk to me. That's all I want. That's all I fucking want. Coffee and a talk. Something that's about me and only me and can make me feel better.
It hurts to be me and it hurts to wake up and it hurts to sleep and it hurts to live.
And that's fucking stupid because I love life and what mine's about but I can't take the pressure of living right now.
I can't pay the bills or make daddy better.
I can't make mom smile enough or tell my sister she's pretty enough to keep her from making mistakes.
I can't tell my brothers they're talented enough to rid them of their insecurities.
I can't embrace the guy I adore and feel like he feels safe.
I can't sleep at night and not see visions of my past and worries for my future.
I can't step outside my front door without wanting to run. Run fast, and far.
I know what I'd take, too.
I'd grab my $108 wadded cash, my tattered bible, lots of pens, and my notebook. I'd wear my high top vans cause they're warm and the only pair of shoes I have without holes or ready to break. I'd grab my teddy bear and my ipod and have only my favorite playlist and Goodnight Darling on it. I'd put it on shuffle, and on constant repeat. I'd throw on my Joe's cause they're the only pair of jeans that halfway fit the way I like them to and are new enough to not rip when I move. I'd put on my black vneck, chop my fucking hair off, steal the blue hoodie from my mom, shove everything in my backpack and just run. Just go. I'd call work and apologize for not being able to come in. I'd write a note saying this:
Mom: you are the only person that's gotten me through what I've gotten through
Dad: you're the only person that can make me cry. Thanks.
Nick: you're the only leader in my life I've ever respected.
Landis: I will miss you the most
Roni: you're so beautiful and so perfectly crafted. Draw and sing and do what your heart cries out to do.
Brittany: thank you.
Mackenzie: be honest with yourself
Kinsey: come find me
Dom: come find me
Gloria: pray for me, hard. Pray hard and don't stop.

Oh my gosh, so tempting. So tempting. Disappear and not come back til I've found myself.

But I'm here. And I feel trapped and caged and like walls are closing in and I just need to be free. I need to get out and to love what I have and to survive, but to live. Fucking live and not look back. Appreciate what I have and love what is to come, no matter what it is. I need a life-change and I want it fucking now. Life is changing but I'm getting harder and colder and more scared of myself and what I'm capable of becoming.
I am scaring myself. I am freaking myself out. Fear is creeping it's way into me and I fucking hate it, but it gives me reason to feel bad. The things I fear are typical scenarios that would happen to me.
I am stronger than this, but not today. I mean, I'm strong enough to get through today, but that's all it ever is, right?
I'm jumping in the shower and I'm letting the hot water burn all these thoughts out of my skin.

If I'm lucky, my whole house will catch on fire.
If I'm even slightly lucky, I will catch fire.
If my luck sucks, these candles will keep me awake with reality.

Monday 10:13am

You know you're having emotional malfunctions when
eating becomes a chore,
sleeping is the peak of your day,
you start feeling beautiful in sweats,
you hope no one notices you've become a hermit,
your teddy bear makes you smile,
you wear a messy bun on the top of your head,
you don't wash your face,
you get off work three hours early to go home and clean your room,
you can't pick a favorite song,
you describe everything in great detail,
and you avoid the things/people you love.

And that's where I'm at...

I hate it

when I wake up winded.

Mackenzie Marten.

Dear Jenelle: Remember when we formed a team out of hate for one person, and began loving each other?
I’m pretty sure I dont know how to thank you for your forgiveness. And friendship.

PS It’s so much fun watching on the sidelines with you.