Hello, Passion, and All the Ways You Destroy Me

Our greatest strengths are so often the set-up for our greatest downfalls. It is that which drives us that also has the potential to drive us into the ground. The things that fire us up reduce us to ashes. That which is my personal spice for life wrecks the whole pot of sauce. It goes on and on.

It took me a long time to figure out my greatest strength, my driving force, my fire, my spice...and with the realization came such an enlightening moment of clarity. Passion. About what? Half the time I have no idea! But anything I care about at all, I care about with such a huge part of myself that, soon enough, I cannot see where it ends and I begin. I just get fired up and it consumes me. That is why I have to be so careful what I care about.

When I look back over the last several years and see the disaster zone that was my personal minefield of relationships, it's not hard to see why it was so harmful and toxic. I come to care for someone, really care, and it consumes me. It's who I am. That isn't to say that I cannot separate myself from someone, or that it in any way turns into an obsession. Not by a long shot. But I commit; I commit to making something work and then I am driven to make this thing last. I kill myself with my greatest attribute.

Ministry is like that for me. Right now I am staring down the barrel of a new gun and it terrifies me. It becomes such an integral part of my life and then, if it ends, a part of me dies with it. I want to be a woman so consumed with ministry that I cannot focus on any other future plans until it is the right time. But how? How in the world do I give myself to something when I know that its flames will take me down?

People say I have strong, even brutal, opinions. I make no apologies for these opinions, only for the coldness of my delivery at times. I do not go in something half way. I do not coast my way through anything. Even in the midst of depression, I sink into it with all the weight I can throw. It's sadistic and, well, dark and twisty. Yet here I stand, with my all in everything I do, and that has to be okay. I may wreck everything by throwing all my chilies in one pot, but no one can say I held back.

Dilemma. If this strength is what is killing me, do I cut it loose (and in the process lose an integral part of what makes me who I am) or run the huge risk of burying myself alive with all this over-zealous shoveling? The shovel feels right in my hand. And even on days when I hate who I am...I love who I am. I love the person who makes me so detestable and so very wonderful in the same breath. I am struggling right now with trying to suppress who I am to please others. These are the others who count. I need to stay in school, remember? I need to go on tour. I need to live out this aspect of my calling. But. Oh, the hugest of buts! I need to live! I need to breathe in air and breathe out something extraordinary. To reign that in is to not be true to who He has made me to be. I cannot take that lightly anymore. The calling on my life is so far beyond settling above mediocre; settling does not compute in my existential life quota.

If I do not let the flames spread to everything I do and everyone I touch, it will consume me from the inside out. I thought the walking dead was bad; burning alive is so much worse.


It's Not His Price to Pay

So in the last few days, so many encouraging people have told me how much I have changed over the last several months. It's given me hope that even if I do not see it, at least others do. Well, some of them.

Tomorrow life starts up again and I need to deal with the issues of last week. Hoo-rah. I cannot let it get me down, though. Situations have to stop having the power to get the best of me.

There are so many things I want to change and I get discouraged when these things stay the same, but I have to be content knowing that things are moving along and in time stuff will progress in a positive direction. I am being so vague it's ridiculous. Um...nevermind. I went to explain but realized my brain is blank.

So. Breathe. It will not always be this way. Smile. Someday it will all be worth it.


When You Smile at Me, It's All that I Ever Need

It's almost the end of November, which means one thing: I get to feel like a woman again. Woot! Shaved legs and make-up do wonders to self-confidence.

Actually, it means another thing. Only three weeks left of school, and I have no idea how I am going to finish everything I need to do to pass. That's silly, of course I will pass...I just won't do well.

There's really nothing to say about anything.

Except. Except that I feel like a ridiculous fool every time, without fail. Stop smiling so I can too.


Tied Together with a Smile but She's Coming Undone

I have a giant paper to write, plenty of time for once, and I cannot make myself do it.

Diet Pepsi...lime
wings over snow in darkness
really bad haiku

So apparently writing itself is not the issue. I can put dirt on a page without a problem. What is it then? The lack of something substantial to say?

Ahem. Why?

That was substantial. Possible the most substantial thing ever said. Also not the issue. Maybe my heart is just heavier than my hands.


That sounds about right.

I'm Holding Every Breath for You

Reading my last post makes me ridiculous sad. I should have known that the tranquility never lasts longer than a single blog post, at least not in my world. I felt like I was making progress; not necessarily progress as others would measure progress, but progress by my standards. I have been getting to a place of smiling at my own thoughts again.

Yesterday was a rocking day. And by rocking I mean earth-shaking in the worst way. Now I am left with a perpetual prognosis, a car that is more than just a possible liability (Cameron's death is imminent, to my despair; to his credit he really did try so hard), and a sense that stability has left the building. I laugh ridiculously loud at the things that are not funny according to anyone else; I threaten violence and almost go through with it, not because I want to hurt someone but because maybe it will make me feel something real; I cannot grasp conversations, even mid-sentence (mine). I am once again a walking time bomb.

I WANT TO BE BETTER! I want this to be over. This season is killing me, slowly but surely. One step forward, two steps back; one step forward, which gives me a desperate hope that this will not be me forever, and two steps back beyond the last worst-it-can-get until I become this cynical hope-less shell of a person who does not dare to dream it will ever end. I have taken one back. The snow came: step forward. A day of horribleness to its utmost came: step back. I cannot afford to take another one or I do not want to imagine who I will be. Knowing me, it could be as bad as the dark days if I do not keep proper perspective.

It's 1:22A.M. and I am alone, in the dark (of a finally, miraculously warm room), crying dry tears because this cannot be real. I have been fooling myself to think that I was moving out of the desert or that Freedom Session has been a step in the right direction or that I could maybe possibly sometime in the near future hopefully get off these ---- or that a man might ever want me as I am.

Ah, the inevitable sidenote. I am not looking. I am far from looking for a man. But that does not help me from seeing. What I see hurts...a lot. I see something, or at least a glimpse of a something, and - for the briefest of moments that somehow spans an eternity of a day - I have hope. *DASH* Oh, don't mind me, that was just my hopes being DASHed on the rocks...does that mean I am Israel in this situation or the baby? It is amazing to me that after all this time I still believe someone will want me the way I am. I am used to guys wanting me because they find me exciting and whatever else, and then suddenly realizing that behind the excitement is a girl who desperately wants to be loved...and that is apparently too much to handle. Today alone I saw two examples. Is it so crazy to think that there is a man out there who might see all that I am and still want me with those things? Yes. Yes, it is. THIS ^^^ is too much. And I am not enough to make up the difference.

It's 1:29A.M. and I am still here. It's 1:30A.M. and I am waking up in five hours. How do I put this into words for the person who needs to know? I don't know how.
I'm floundering.


I've Found I'm Scared to Know I'm Always on Your Mind

Snow really does fix everything. On Friday, sitting in Tim Horton's, I was able to see the sky transform from a dusting of white to a full on blizzard. Being out after that (even while I was being face-washed again and again) was the happiest I have been since...well, since Toronto. And we all know h0w fun that was. It has just been so long since I could really feel anything, but when God pours out His storehouses I am so aware of Him. It's like my God-sense tingles out of control and I cannot stand it. When I smell the snow it is so fresh and so crisp, and all I can think is how this is what it must have smelled like when everything came to be.

My life has been changing so rapidly lately in directions I was not expecting. Part of me is scared to death; I know that if things do not continue to go up, I may never again figure out how to get here again, let alone back to the mountain.

Hallelujah that none of this rests on a boy or a friend, on anyone or anything else. My life is getting back on track, and I am exactly one month away from being half way through this leg of the journey. And I am excited for what is coming.


Day 82

That is 35.49%. And I am frustrated.

I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be. ...I am.

Yesterday's blog, reading it now with fresh eyes, hurts. It hurts to read, hurts to realize that it is really the condition of my heart. I hoped that releasing it out into the universe would help, but it hasn't. Every single time, another piece of me dies and I need to work to raise it from the dead. I sound pathetic, but I assure you I am not; I am extremely level-headed in this matter for the most part and I am under no illusions.

But why does it do this to me then? Why has it left me limping, clutching my chest, and without fingers that only know how to type painful, ironic diatribes. I need to walk so I can get away; I need to have a heart that works so I can love someone deserving and give God what He demands; and, I need need need to type papers so that I can pass this semester and be done with it.

Please, please, leave me alone. Amazing how not so far in the past I would have done nearly anything not to be, and now it is all I want in the world.

Leave me alone.


Leave. Me. ALONE!

I should be writing a paper right now, but I am actually so bothered that I am incapable of doing so until I get this off my chest.


I'm tired of this. Sick and tired. You have no respect for me whatsoever. You didn't then, and you sure as hell don't know. Don't feed me crap about caring or being sorry or whatever else you've come up with. This whole not talking thing is not ending any time soon. It's been months and I still don't think it's been long enough to feel enough of a gap between us. What exactly runs through your mind in situations like these? Options:
A) Maybe she's not mad anymore. I am. More so than I thought.
B) Because she won't talk to me, I'll send her cruel, lying messages when I look at her. I hated you lying before, and it's no more acceptable now.
C) Because she won't talk to me, I'll send her highly inappropriate messages through my eyes that I fully mean. Inappropriate. Keep your eyes to yourself.
D) As if I haven't made her life a living hell as it is, I will actively make it worse and bring up all her worst memories so that they are rubbed in her face at every possible opportunity. Ouch.
I don't know if any of these are true, maybe all of them are just speculation. If so, I do not want to know what the truth is. Or maybe at some point they're all true. If so...like I said, leave me alone.

I am not a grudge person in general, so these big emotions surprise and almost scare me. I thought I was beyond this. But then again, I thought you were too.

Ugh! Enough! I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want someone else to control me even in the slightest. I want to move past this and get on with my life, without you in it. I don't know what else to say. Most of the time...I just pity you. That saddens me, possibly more than anything else.

A plea. You may never see this. But still, a plea. Just...leave me be. I am trying to heal, not just from you but from everything else life has thrown at me. Let me do that in peace. I cannot afford to feel this bad anymore.



I Tried My Best to Be Guarded, but I'm an Open Book Instead

I am slowly coming to the realization that I can never go back.

There are so many things I would change if I could, so many precautions I would have taken, so many wise words I would have told myself. I will never again relive the "glory days," which, without the glare of nostalgia, really weren't so glorious after all; I will never relive the dark days, which, at the time, contained some of my most precious moments. I can never again be the Leanne who gave her heart to Jesus in the earnest hope that her life would turn around. We are so far beyond that now.

The more I discover about God, the more He thrills me. I read His name and feel my heart turn wildly inside of my chest, as someone so eloquently put it. I am falling in love with Him for who He is, not who I want Him to be or who it would be more convenient for Him to be or what He could do for me. Just Him. And it's rocking my world.

Part of my issue right now with only three more weeks of school this semester is trying to stay focused when all I want to do is sit down and read my Bible for hours on end. I want to read books that go deep into who He is, not just scratch the surface in an overview attempt at explaining a concept to people who haven't yet begun that journey. I want so much more right now! I haven't had passion about anything in so long, but last night as I discussed my views on some controversial topics, I felt a part of myself start to breathe again. I may have been too pushy at some points, and for that I apologize, but it was just so exciting to know I was excited about something! And it wasn't just any something.

Okay, I need to sleep now. If I want any energy with which to properly live each day so I have time for the things I want - let's be real, when it becomes as essential as breathing it is now a need - and not just the things necessary for passing courses that I will most likely forget about in a year's time. I want to learn, but so much more than that I want to fall deeper into Him. It will take my whole life to learn how to do it right, and then it will only be the start of an even grander adventure as I move on to the real story of my existence.

So if I continuously bring up the same topics, I...well, I don't apologize, but I am sorry if it bothers you. I am just so enthralled with this stuff that I can't help but talk about it.


Could You Get It back Again? Would It Be the Same?

Do you ever have those days where absolutely nothing seems good enough. It's not a question, because I cannot be alone in this. Not in this, too.

One moment in the morning makes everything feel in line, like for that one minute my life is exactly where it is supposed to be. To that other person it was probably a passing comment that was forgotten two minutes later, but to me it was the only good thing in my day. From then on, it was as though I was spending every minute trying to get that feeling back again. I failed miserably.

These blogs are so depressing lately. Ugh. I want to be happy. I want what I write to reflect how I live; as things stand, I am fine all day until I sit down and it all breaks loose. You know how people tell their kids that if they make that face too long it'll stay that way? If I stay strong too long, I will stay that way.

I am damaged at best, like You've already figured out.

Thank God that He doesn't view me as irredeemable. I am an open book to Him. There is nothing inside me that is hidden. And. And even like that, filleted on the cutting board before Him, He looks at me in love. He doesn't see the sin anymore! I just have to stop walking around with it as my rose-coloured glasses.

I'm hanging on another day just to see what You will throw my way. And I'm hanging on to the words You say: You said that I will be okay.


I'm Too Young to Feel this Old

I spent the weekend with a dear friend doing the most wonderful things. It was so lightening to just be in the presence of someone who I'm so comfortable with, doing whatever the heck we wanted in the moment. It was a nice reprieve from the last long while. Lately I have felt very, very old.

The amount of life experience I have had in the last five years alone feels like enough to make me ancient. Someone asked how old I was the other day and I actually had to do the math. I feel as though I have had at least thirty years of life, if not more, but I am selling myself short by at least a decade. There is still so much to go.

Devastating loss takes so much away from a person. I found my first white hair awhile ago, and another one yesterday. The stress of life as it is has literally been aging me before my own eyes. I have acne, which is the strangest thing because I rarely had more than one pimple at a time until now. Wrinkles are appearing. My metabolism is slowing down. I am sure that if people heard me say these things they would laugh and tell me to stop over-exaggerating, to quit being such a drama queen. This is no hyperbole, however; I am aging far faster than years are going by.

I am no longer afraid of being alone. I'm not. I never have been, I never will be, and that goes even beyond death. I am tired of being the kind of alone that was God's first declaration of "not good," though. That kind of alone is exhausting. I am whole by myself. I am a fully functioning human being without a man. I can survive this way until I die. But now I want another whole person to walk through all of this with. I want to enjoy it all with another person by my side. And I can wait. Patience, over the last several years, has been growing on me. I can wait.

I feel eons old. Maybe when people talk about the day-age theory, this is what they mean: days go by but it feels like forever. That doesn't mean it actually is. I'm not stupid enough to think that I am a billion years old just because all the evidence I can see looks that way (not that I'm making jabs at day-age theorists...much). The point? I am so, so old. Maybe one day I will find an old soul like me.

Happiness Looks a Lot like Sorrow

There really is nothing to say. I have had a rocking good weekend, but it always seems like the things that should make me feel good...well they don't. They make me feel fishbowly. And I think back over every word I said, every move I made, and criticize the curlingiron outta myself. And I mousetrapping hate it. Hate, hate, hate it. I beat myself up over the stupidest of inconsequential things, then beat myself harder over beating myself up in the first place. Sometimes I want to sink into the ground and just have the air compressed out of my chest so I can't feel it anymore. I hate walking into a room alone. I hate fending for myself in conversations I didn't necessarily choose. I despise myself for wanting things I hate with good reason. I was doing so good today, for the first time in weeks. Back at square one.

Like I said...there really is nothing to say.


It's Gonna Bring Me to My Knees

This is all so much more than my heart can stand. I don't like spending my spare time remembering how such-and-such a guy broke my heart, and that one lied to me, and that one did things I cannot even mention in my head let alone out loud. I'm not to the point of enjoying dragging out my deepest secrets and word-vomiting them onto paper, where, if they somehow fall into the wrong hands, they could destroy my life. There is no satisfaction in saying in detail how I've hurt the closest people in my life. And all of this makes it so incredibly difficult to do the other things I need to do...like papers, journals, readings or memorizations; these things that count a heck of a lot for my grade, but cannot trump what counts most for my heart's healing.

With every thing I write down, my walls come down with the words. I am shaken by every snide remark, by every well-meant comment that hits just the right hurt, and how they so easily bring me to my knees. But even all this is not enough. The other expectations - some of which I definitely take the blame for and others which I cannot get over - are crushing me. It is not that I want to break the rules, but I need air. I need to feel like I can breathe.

I'm a really claustrophobic person. I remember the day it started. I was playing hide-and-seek at my house and I hid in the bathroom hamper. Someone sat on it and wouldn't let me out. Ever since then, the strangest things bring me right back to that place. These regulations makes me feel exactly the same way.

Christmas is coming up. Finally. Maybe it seems like so long because I don't remember last Christmas, or because it smells like snow and I can't recall the last time I smelled air this crisp. I want to enjoy it. I want to wake up Boxing Day and remember the day before. So what do I need to do now to ensure what will happen then?

I need to relinquish my tight hold on my GPA. I have to do whatever it takes to stay in school...namely, not rebelling. I have to set a pattern in my days so that each one has meaning I can see, and so that some of the clutter in my mind can be organized as well. I need to quit wishing for things I cannot and never will have. I need to clear up my money stuff so that it's not over my head. I need to go to church, not just Young Adults. I have to forgive the people who have hurt me, let them off the hook, and just let go. I must, under any and all circumstances, continue with my Bible reading plan. And above all else, I need to seek God in every circumstance.

Oh God, please give me the strength I need. This is not going to be easy...not by a long shot.


Gravity, Stay the Hell Away from Me

Gravity...chicken...spiders...baristas...pretty much everything.

I don't know how to convey words I'm singing. So, um, if I drag out letters, consider it singing. Please sing it to yourself, keeping in mind the duration of the prolonged letter. This will bring me great joy.

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii waaaa-ha-aaaaant tooooooooo-ooh-hoo-hooooooo peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeace outta-heeere / breaaaaak aaawaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay from-what-is-so-neeear / So I can have myyyy caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake / That-I-made-while aaawaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake / And-eat-it tooooooooooooooooooooo / My darling, I'm sooooooooooo ooover yooooooooooooooooooooooohoooooooooohooooooooooooooou

I'm practically delusional. Please take it for what it iiiiiis.


For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry

I am learning to let go all over again. Passing classes has to be enough. Surviving the day needs to be worth celebrating. Not doing all the shoulds and musts of my life is not an embarrassment. Feeling alone right now is not a disgrace. Not feeling God, even when I spend time with Him, is only one word: perseverance.

This week, under any other lens, looks like failure. This last year, without the right focus, appears to have kept me at a stand-still.

I am hopelessly, utterly, completely alone. And I am okay.
I am afraid and empty. But look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. It's a testimony that He is there even when I, small insignificant me, do not feel His presence.


Every Time I Look at You It's like the First Time

Lately I have been discovering hidden truths I have always believed, based on my interpretation of experiences, that may or may not be true. Tonight another one popped up, and it was not until the opposite was stated that I realized how often this lie has been the premise for so many of my actions.

Lie: Men are shallow. They do not have deep feelings. There are mythical men who have real emotions, but they are always getting slaughtered by women without hearts. A man could never care about me as much as I care about him. I cannot break a man's heart because he doesn't have one; even if he feels a sting, he'll be over it in a week (and by over it I mean in some other girl's hot tub). I have to just be okay with settling for someone who will never understand my feelings or experience the same level of love I have for him.

I started typing out the "truth" that was given to me tonight, but I felt stupid. Writing "all of the above is a lie" actually made me feel duped.

So where do I go from here?

I was just at a service with 50 other young adults hearing about relationships and being told to meet people "just in case," but I have never felt less like being someone. I was sitting there, actually kind of confused, because there was no pull to be with a guy. At all. Zero. But I don't know how to fix what is broken without someone showing me that I, all along in fact, have just been using the freaking eggbeaters the wrong way. You get my drift? I don't want someone perfect, but I want a man who will prove that I was wrong. That even if he makes me frustrated beyond belief and never puts the dishes away right and always buys skim instead of whole milk because he thinks it's healthier, he will feel for me deeply. Is that too much to ask?

Some other little tidbits I picked up tonight:
  • If the past is not dealt with now, it will leak into the future. Duh...but I'd never heard it stated quite that way before.
  • A warning sign that says it's time to get out: if there's any level of compromise (settling for something you don't believe in because you're not yet ready to fight for what you do).
  • Women have 10x the touch receptors that men do!
That last one especially was a big learning curve :)

Thought of the day:
He will show up, one day. And when he does, he will feel things. He will choose to see past the crap and be willing to risk his heart on me. I can only hope that I am able to keep his heart safe the way I am trusting him to do with mine.


That's the Way I Loved You

Today I slept. Period. I woke up for brunch, went back to sleep, and woke up for dinner. I planned to do five hours of homework, but instead read 50 pages from one book.

I am slipping into old patterns. I am not who I want to be.

You were wild and crazy.
I am shutting down; not of my own volition, but by nature. I have stopped being in control, I think.
Just so frustrating.
I had months go by that never imprinted in my memory. I call them the "dark days." I am beginning to see echoes and it's scary.
I need something to excite me to full consciousness before it is too late. I need to feel alive.
Got away by some mistake.

One day I will stop blogging again, too. That will signal defeat. Not of my own volition, but by nature; self-preservation will have kicked in and it will be too late.


Broken Lights on the Freeway

This could be the way I am for the rest of my life.

I want to be that strong person again. It's all selfish; I want to be admired, praised, commended. Instead He is leaving me in a place of absolute humility. I am down on the floor and cannot feel Him at all.

I don't want to have to be strong anymore. Not really. It's so much effort to keep my head up, hold the tears back and hide the words screaming to be let out.

So then it comes down to fear. Today I could not stay in my class for the last hour because I could not hold back the tears. I was a mess. Without strength there is fear. So am I more afraid of becoming a dazzling statue again - the kind that is rock solid marble, cold and hard and without life; the immovable dead - or of what people might say and do if I just start crying in the middle of Senior Seminar?

It's confession time. Every day, the pull that is Overwhelm staggers closer and closer until I can feel him beneath my feet, in my lungs, over my head. He comes on painfully slow, but I cannot bring myself to move. If I let myself get caught up completely, I am finished; there will not be a person in this body to resurrect again.

I am doing everything I can. I sleep more. I eat more. I read my Bible more. I talk less and listen more. I don't get bogged down by stress. I have hope in the things that are sure. ...And guess what? I am still not okay.

This could be the way I am for the rest of my life.


Everyday Love

What. Is. Wrong. With. Me.

Yesterday I was about this big, and today I am high as a kite. On no sleep. But oh! Today!

Thursdays are usually my hardest days, because I have class from 8-11:30, chapel, lunch, and class from 1:15-4:30. I literally do not leave the building for 8.5 hours (except for, well not exactly the exception, when I go back to my room on each ten minute break for a five minute nap). But today! We talked about these things that just stir me up in the most amazing ways! Not in a bad, confrontational way, but in a challenging, be better! kind of way. We talked about inerrancy in Scripture, the huge responsibility placed on teachers (both inside the walls of the church and out) to lead people correctly while showing them how to read the Bible properly, and the essentiality of daily, personal, intense devotion time. All of which are so huge on my heart!

And chapel! (I need to go to a smaller font or I will not have enough room to make this short enough to be readable). A husband and wife from the States tag-teamed a message that was just so FULL of good stuff. And of course there's the stuff that just spoke, or yelled, at me.
  • Esther 4:14 - she was called out of the mundane to the highest throne on the earth to be a voice for her generation. Be one in yours or God will use someone else.
  • James 4:8 says that when we draw near to God He draws near too! If we don't feel Him...so what? I need to be prepared that I may be in this place of not feeling Him for the rest of my life, but that shouldn't diminish my passion. I refuse to doubt in the dark what He told me in the light.
  • Express what you're learning in school through service of some kind. It will make it mean more. I need to kick myself into gear, stop being afraid, and just do whatever the heck He asks me to.
  • Do not get comfortable, do not squash your own dream, do not say never if God doesn't.

What a day. Don't get me wrong...I still feel as lost in the desert as ever. But somehow, today, I'm staring through the glare off the sand and smiling through the sweat and tears. If this is as good as it gets...then it's as good as it gets.


If That's the Road God Made Me Take to Be with You

This is not my life. This cannot be my life.

It has now officially been a year and a half. Context? Context. More context. It is not about a boy or a heartache or a crappy summer or a billion descending steps that landed me here. It's that I'm still here, and every sign I saw of help finally coming turned out to be just another mirage.

How many times this week do I have to break down in Starbucks before I realize things are not getting better? How often do I need to talk myself back into staying at school because I know I will regret it the rest of my life if I don't? How long before I can laugh at these questions because life is finally not here?

Sidenote: this whole "Natural November" thing is killing anything I had going on, for billions of reasons. But I guess I can narrow it down to a few:
1. I look like a 12 year old without make-up...and that's being generous.
2. God gave man the brain capacity to create eyelash curlers and mascara so that people like me could look like we have eyes. That should never be taken away.
3. This is self-inflicted, so if I quit I will only disappoint myself and feel even crappier than I do without the freaking stuff.
4. I have zero confidence when it feels like all people are doing when they talk to me is analyzing how many colours are on my face at any given time, staring with morbid curiosity at how my face looks like it died 10 years ago without blush, and, of course, they're still searching for my eyes.
I know it's a good exercise, and I know no one is holding me to this but me. I want to feel beautiful without help...but I look at my issues stretched across pages and pages of notes, and I am realizing exactly how petrified I am of being rejected for my appearance. I don't know if I can continue. It makes me truly sad to have to say that.

I am thoroughly exhausted. My energy, my self-esteem, my resources, my back-up battery power...all exhausted. Yet I type this with no emotion whatsoever. I am a wall; hard, cold, unfeeling. Then it slips out in a public place and I am surprised. By what, I have no idea.


Hello Mr. Heartache

I feel kind of like I am waiting for my life to happen.

When does it begin? When do the trivialities cease in favour of an existence worth pursuing? When do dreams stop hanging on my walls and over my head and in my sleep, and start becoming the reality I know they were made to be?

When do I wake up from everything I could never be to the woman who always was but was too afraid to show her face?

"One of the saddest experiences is to awaken at old age and discover that one has been using only a small part of self."
- V. W. Burroughs

Find me here. Meet me here. In the depths of my pain, in the sorrow that is too profound for words. In these things is where I need You the most. In these things I drown. I need living water, the kind that does not make me thirst again; then I can stop drowning in a sea I am desperately trying to swallow in a futile attempt at quenching my craving. Be my everything.