AccordingtoJane

Thu, 04 Jun 2009 22:20:15 GMT

I hate crying. Hate it. It's been awhile, though, and I guess I was long overdue. I'd hoped it would not happen on vacation, but I've been allotted so much free time, and there's been absolutely nothing to do with it for the last two days. Usually I'm fine if I can keep myself busy. Between work and school and conquering the world, I've had my hands full up to this point. But now there's no escaping myself, and I've no choice but to sit and think, re-playing these things over and over again. They're stuck here, lodged in my brain like a fucking push-pin. Just enough to sting, but I'm not bleeding just yet. It's not nearly as painful as it was a few months ago, but it's definitely still there. I'd hoped I'd have gotten over this by now. One minute I'm fine, the next BAM! Any little thing sets me off. It's not a wonder everyone thinks I'm crazy. It isn't easy to forget the lies, especially after believing them for so long. I hate being this way--the nausea and the pressure that's built in my head and my chest. I hate coming on this f***ing site to vent, and more than anything I hate feeling sorry for myself. For now I'm going to count my blessings and do my best to sleep it off. God I'm pathetic sometimes.

Confunkefied.

Thu, 23 Apr 2009 03:37:28 GMT

I don't know if I can handle this. I don't want to deal with it. Can't it just go away on its own? I mean, really. What good will it do to talk to someone about it when I already know what they'll say. I've been trying to wrap my head around this one for months now and I just can't seem to kick it. It's in the mall and on the radio. It's around every corner, in every conversation, in all situations. We reap what we sow. What a f***ing year.

Sun, 01 Feb 2009 02:26:25 GMT

Tonight was the one night I was going to allow myself to have fun. It's the night I'd set aside specifically to spend with the girls, and it totally and absolutely failed. I made a conscious effort to make tonight work. These are people who I labor alongside every day, and I want to know them. And so I took the evening off rather than do schoolwork. I made sure that this time was set aside for these women. I know it doesn't seem like much, but I made it a priority to do this. I want to serve and love them.

But I can't do it anymore. I can't sit and pretend that all of this is okay when it's not. Most people would probably tell me not to take it personally, but I am a person and it is personal. I struggle with it all the time, but I am constantly feeling abandoned by these people. By everyone. I know it's foolish, and I know that I shouldn't depend on them for a sense of belonging, but I can't be alone like this anymore.

I hate that I'm angry with them because it is partly my fault. It just hurts that no one would wait for me tonight. I was late, I know that. But why couldn't someone have waited? I told them that I just needed a few minutes to go and change. The dress I'd worn wasn't appropriate and I didn't feel comfortable wearing it. But they just kept passing me off onto the next person and putting me on someone else until finally I got no answer. No ride. No help. Everyone had already gone.

And so I walked five blocks, walking through puddles of slush and melted snow in a dress and a pair of heels, back to the dorms for another night spent alone. I felt deserted. I felt that I didn't matter. It was perfectly clear to me tonight that I wasn't worth five minutes of their time. And that cut me to the core.

I've been trying to reconnect with people, but it's hard when there wasn't a strong connection there in the first place. It's times like these when I wonder if everything was simply superficial. It seems that so much is expected of me, but I can't fit the mold. I can't be who they want me to be because I am myself. I'm not the same as I was a year ago, but I can't be this perfect person either.

People speak about God's love, and I do believe that they understand it, but what I don't understand is why I feel constantly ostracized. We are supposed to love as He does, and He loves me for myself, so why is it so difficult for others to embraced just as I am? I don't feel like I can be real with these women.

I don't feel like I can trust them, either. I want to lay my life down for these girls, and I know it's selfish to say, but it's really difficult when it seems as though no one gives a damn. I don't want friends who love me out of obligation. I want it to be genuine and true. I hope to bring joy into people's lives, and I would hope that my friendship would be considered a blessing--not a burden.

This is what got me into trouble in the first place. Perhaps I'm overly sensitive because of my childhood, but I couldn't help feeling abandoned. Why did everyone leave me? It's so foolish when I think about it, but I just wanted to feel loved. I hated feeling like I was on my own so much of the time. I thought no one cared and so when someone finally did show an interest, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And I did get burnt.

This was a person who I should've been able to trust, someone who loved the Lord (or so I thought), and for a while I thought that God was answering my prayers. That He had sent me 'the one'. But things turned sour. I lost my focus. He so cleverly spun his web of lies and deceit and I flew right into it. It nearly destroyed me. This man was Satan's tool, Lucifer's buffer between me and my maker.

He lied, he abused, he manipulated and pulled me farther and farther away everyone, even God, until I was lost in a sea of guilt, drowning in my own sin. And for what? Because I didn't want to be alone. I couldn't stand feeling deserted, and rather than looking to the Lord as I should have, I looked for love that I could touch and feel.

It would be so easy to slip back into my old routine, do what thousands of other kids do. I could choose to go out drinking every night, I could choose to sleep around, and I could choose to waste my life away searching for the next high. But I won't. I've chosen something better, something eternal and perfect and withstanding. God loves me, and I love him soo much. And I could never walk away from Him. Fellowship is important, especially because it's another way we can know Him. I just can't seem to get back.

"Put me in, coach,"

Sun, 02 Nov 2008 03:11:22 GMT

I keep thinking.

I played basketball for three years. I never started a game in high school. I never played for the varsity team--I barely played for J.V. I was at almost every practice, every day of the week for 12-15 weeks during the basketball season. We even worked over winter break, getting up as early as 6:00 am for practice.

We shot free throws, ran drills, did push-ups, and pushed through defensive pressses. We would scrimmage and rush and run until we were ready to collapse. "Run panther," coach would say, or, "Hawkeye". Coach made sure we knew the plays backward and forward, inside and out.

Sometimes he'd yell and sometimes he was really hard on us, but he did it for our benefit. There were times when we hated basketball practice, and there were times when we wanted to give up, but regardless of the circumstances we pushed each other. We were a team, and when the team played it showed.

I didn't understand it at the time. It took me almost a year after I quit playing ball before I figured out what it all meant--the strategy, the purpose, the well-orchestrated plays. In action I'd never udnerstood it because it was never explained to me. I did what I was told simply because I was told to do it.

I scored a total of three points in my entire basketball "career". Looking back I know why. I wasn't ready. For whatever reason, I hadn't learned enough. I was not prepared to be an effective player on the team.

Since then you could say I've become part of a new team, God's team. I became a Christian, and I've got my head in the game. I'm ready to get out there and give it my all for the coach; I'm ready to play my A game. So often, however, I feel like I'm still sitting on the bench.

"The Lord will work out his plans for my life--for your faithful love, O Lord, endures forever."- Psalm 138:8

It's clear to me that God has a purpose for my life, just as he has a purpose for yours. It's exciting to know that we fit into his game plan, even if it's in a small way. It's hard to wait when we're ready to play. Who doesn't want to play for a winning team? Like waiting for the right shot, or scoring at the buzzer, it's important to remember that there He has perfect timing and he will call us at just the right moment.

If you're like me, remember to be patient. Your time will come. Just keep practicing. Keep your elbows in and hold your arms steady. Stay in the word daily, and trust that the coach knows what he's doing even when you don't understand the plan. Remember your purpose, and keep praying, "Put me in, coach." Know that eventually he will.

Make a Wish (A Blog from My Magazine's Class)

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 06:37:32 GMT

A hundred tiny parasols were carried into the wind, drifting toward some unknown place. As I watched the dandelion fluff disappear, I was reminded of a time when I was about seven years old. My mother and I were sitting in the grass picking dandelions.

“Make a wish,” she said before sending the parachuters into the world. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. I’d actually try to catch some of the magic for myself, but I could seldom grasp one. In the rare event that I did, I’d open up my hand and stare into my chubby palm to find a flattened dandelion whisker. Not only had I managed to crush the poor thing, but I’d also managed to end its journey.

So often that same sense of wonder and magic is destroyed when we grow up. When we’re small we wish to go to Disney World or to see a shooting star or that we could fly. We wish for our dreams to come true and we hold sincerely to the belief that they will.

Unfortunately the older we get the more our values change. Instead of wishing to see what’s over the rainbow we wish for a better economy, or a million dollars, or a different life instead of cherishing the one we’ve got. Sometimes we wish for a better world—now that’s possible!

The thing about dandelion wishes is that in order for them to come true, every tuft must depart. Each is part of the wish and if even one remains, the wish doesn’t come true.

When we apply this principle to our world today, we make wishes reality. Habitat for Humanity, Race for the Cure—there are plenty of opportunities to exercise this power. One such opportunity is the Make a Wish Foundation.

The Make a Wish Foundation has been making dreams come true for 28 years. Don’t let the world snatch you from your path. Strap on your parachutes and make a difference. Visit www.wish.org.

“Energy is that amazing feeling that comes to life inside of you when you’re happy and believe in yo

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 06:35:46 GMT

I am not nor have I ever been a graceful girl. My socks don’t always match, my glasses are usually crooked, and I trip going up stairs. A lot. I was made blatantly aware of my clumsiness when I decided to go to my first kickboxing class this week.

A few ladies in the front were doing really well—their steps were right, their kicks were high—you could tell they’d done this before. I wish I could say I had that same finesse. I also wish I was about two inches taller so I could get the Cheetos from the top of the refrigerator.

It started out well enough, but it wasn’t long before I was lost and stumbling over myself. If you’ve ever been to a fitness program, you know what I mean. Embarrassing yourself at the gym is awful.

As I looked around, I saw at least three other girls who looked equally befuddled. They shuffled to keep in step with the instructor, trying desperately to appear as though they knew what was going on.

Laughing to myself I thought, “This is ridiculous!”

And so, doing the only thing I could, I started dancing. Richard Simmons’ Sweatin’ to the Oldies. Richard would’ve been proud—the girl behind me burst out in laughter. Even the instructor was giggling.

I learned something that night:
I’m awkward, and you know what? That’s okay. I’ve got no rhythm and no “moves”, but you’re still with me. Now that says something.

We all looked out of place on that floor and I was the ringleader. So I’m not graceful. Big deal! I was myself.

I’m challenging you to be different. Trust me—I it’s better to be a daisy in a field of roses. Richard believes in you and so do I!

Hector the Collector

Fri, 10 Oct 2008 06:25:20 GMT

It's not always easy letting go.

Silverstein’s Hector is someone I can identify with. I am a collector of many things, and I know I’m not the only one. When I was younger, I collected buttons and coins, tea sets and dolls, shells and rocks.

The older I got the more things I collected: foreign coins, antique books, post cards, old 33’s (records, folks), stamps, even gnomes. Yes my friends, I collect lawn gnomes.

What may surprise you even more is that I’ve managed to hold on to most of these things, despite what everyone keeps telling me. “Just get rid of it,” they’d say. “Whitley, I don’t know why you hold on to all of this stuff. It’s junk.”

Gasp! Junk?! How could they call my treasures junk? Every one of these things has a special story to tell, something from my past or someone else’s that has earned it a special place in my heart. For me, collecting things is like creating a tangible archive of history.

For my mother, it was a collection of pencil sharpeners started with her grandfather. For my middle school math teacher, it was a jar of used chewing gum students had been scraping from the bottom of desks since the 70s. If you’re like my cousin, your baseball card collection may be your most cherished possession.

Perhaps it’s the nostalgia of childhood or the joy of reminiscing, but we all have something that we hold on to. I still remember the day I packed my toys away. It was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. Life has a way of forcing us to give things up, but my question is what is it that you refuse to let go?

An Instant

Sun, 21 Sep 2008 20:46:07 GMT

When I went to work yesterday there was a cameraman from ABC News 5 shooting footage of the hospital. This was kind of interesting, I thought. Why would News 5 be there? As I walked onto the sidewalk in front of the building I noticed another person who I also assumed to be from ABC speaking with another very distraught-looking person. There was a group of people gathered nearby; they all had the same worn, weary look. Odd. A moment later, one of the gentlemen began yelling at the newsman with the camera. He hadn't spoken a word, simply shifted to get a better shot of the new hospital emergency room entrance. "Get out of here! We don't need none of your news bullshit here," he shouted. "Put that camera away!" A few people seemed to wince. Friends held on to each other while small children clung tightly to their mothers. Clearly something was wrong. I found out later that a young woman had been brought into the Emergency Room earlier that day and died shortly after. She had been shot. She was only 25 years old. The average handgun fires a bullet at a speed between 800 and 1000 per second. Funny how much your life can change in an instant. We are not guaranteed anything in this life. Not safety, not luck, and least of all time. Life is composed of hundreds of thousands moments, tiny little seconds, any one of which could be our last. We are each born with nothing to expect but a definite and unpredictable end. I had never met this young woman, but I felt a loss at the news of her death. What had her life been like? How would she be remembered? Who was she leaving behind?? So many questions ran through my mind, but none so important as this--did she know Jesus Christ and would he be taking her safely home? None of us may ever know, but what we can be sure of is this: Where there is faith there is hope, where there is love there is healing, and where there is belief in Christ and God above, there is no death but eternal life.

Thankful

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 07:18:49 GMT

God has been amazing! Well, tonight I was able to talk to 2 people about faith and sort of share with one. It was amazing. I've been sort of beating around the bush for awhile and the opportunity finally arrived that I was able to ask, "So where do you stand spiritually?" And do you know what his answer was??? "Christian, born again believer." He's a pretty sarcastic guy, but I think he was serious. This is how our conversation went:
__________________________
ME: i know. lol. what ARE your spiritual beliefs btw? i feel like we've had this conversation, but i can't remember...

PERSON: christian, born again believer.. haha what are YOURs

ME: christian and loving it :) you know what's crazy is, even though i was raised christian, i considered buddhism for awhile. aaaand my mom wants to be wiccan. lol. family gatherings are super fun.

PERSON: lol.. when did you get so religious?

ME: i dunno. it's been kind of an ongoing process for the last few months. a lot's changed in my life and even though some of it's REALLY hard it's all been for the better i think.

PERSON: ya its for the better, i admire you alot..
lol im never gona make anything out of my life.

ME: oh yes you will. you've done so much already whether you know it or not. for example did you know that i used to be a really angry person? i was really withdrawn and impersonal because people were mean, but then one day my dentist opened the door to the office for me. i'd never met the guy before, and he was so nice to me. it really changed my attitude a lot. it was kind of like "well, things aren't going to change unless i take the first step." after that, i would purposely go out of my way to say hello to someone--even if they'd been totally heinous. all that because he opened a door for me- A DOOR. everything you do has a direct effect on someone else and even the little things in this world can have a big impact, so don't worry. you are going to do wonderful things :)
___________________
I am soooo excited to REALLY share with this guy!!! I've really been struggling with giving things to God, and I mean REALLY giving things to God, lately and this just goes to show how awesome he really is. My life has been insane for the last year with everything that's been going on. Between the car accident (which he was also in), my parents' divorce, school, watching my friends from HS destroy their lives, the destruction of an inner circle, a crazy room mate, a brief encounter with drinking and other bad decisions, depression, OCD and my decision to meet my biological father, I didn't think I was going to make it. I had NO idea why all of this was happening, but it seems clearer now.
This guy has been there for me through so much of it, and he knows how it's changed me. He's been through a lot in his life, and we've been through quite a lot together. He's changed too. It's just SO encouraging because he's got such a good heart and I believe that him seeing how God is continually working on me will help him really cling to the Lord. I screw up so much, SO MUCH, but God gives so much grace. He has answered so many of my prayers, even just in the last week. I am continually amazed by Him and the love He has shown. Being able to share with this person tonight was so encouraging. Tonight after this conversation, From the Inside Out by Hillsong came on my iTunes. I literally fell to my knees.
**************************
A thousand times I've failed
Still Your mercy remains
And should I stumble again
I'm caught in Your grace

Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame

Your will above all else
My purpose remains
The art of losing myself
In bringing You praise

In my heart and my soul
Lord I give You control
Consume me from the inside out
Lord let justice and praise
Become my embrace
To love you from the inside out

Everlasting
Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending
Your glory goes beyond all fame
And the cry of my heart
Is to bring You praise
From the inside out
Lord my soul cries out
***********************
I was so overwhelmed that I just bowed down on the floor and cried. All I could say was, "Thank you." Over and over again. God has not been amazing. God IS amazing. Don't ever forget it.

Day 1: Getting Started

Fri, 27 Jun 2008 22:38:39 GMT

Well, today's the day. Today's the day I start my summer mission of forgiveness. After a 2 hour conversation with my mom and grandmother, it was more than clear to me that I need to nip it in the bud and get going with this thing if I'm ever going to be able to let go and move on with my life. God's given me the tools I need, it's just a matter of using them now. Please, Jesus, help me out here. I can't do this by myself...

Sweater Weather

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 06:53:36 GMT

I decided just moments ago that I'd just like to fore-go this whole summer and head right into the fall. It sounds crazy, but it's completely true. It's not that I hate summer. Quite the contrary, actually. I love spending time with friends and having the time to enjoy myself; I love the sunshine and all the green covering the earth. It's beautiful. There's just something about the end of September and beginning of October that puts a little more spring in my step, adds a little more curl to my smile, and a little more joy in my heart. It's almost like I get the chills or something. But that's just it--the weather's perfect! Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. It's the time of year when all the humidity's finally gone out of the air, the pollen count is finally hovering somewhere around "Normal", and the farmers have brought in the season's harvest. The air is clear and crisp and clean. As crazy as it sounds, I can actually taste autumn in the air. It tastes wonderful:) Fall is a visit to the pumpkin patch, apple cider, and daddy's peach cobbler warm in the pan. It's a vibrant canvas painted in a whirl of rich warm colors. It's early mornings, up at 7:00 am, wrapped in a sleeping bag with a hot cup of coffee out on the deck watching the sun come up. It's hot buttered toast and bacon, then off to school. It's waking up slow and laying in bed for an extra hour just because, and it's legs on the edge of the bed and stalking feet on the cold wood floor. I can remember mornings like that when I was little and the smell of my grandpa's house. I loved that smell-wood polish, pledge I think. I remember waking up for school early one morning at my dad's house and going outside. It was so quiet and peaceful there. It was 6 or 6:30, just early enough that nobody was on the highway yet, and the deer were still out grazing. I can remember thinking to myself, "God, this is beautiful." I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life. It brought tears to my eyes: The sun had just come up and its rays shone on the fields, its rays seeming to kiss each and every corn tassel. No rush; home seemed to have its own pace in time. It took my breath away. The air was thick with damp, but it felt so light in my chest. I could taste the dew on every inhalation and a little of the earth with every breath I released. The fall holds such a special place in my heart, so many memories. These moments are some of the happiest, most vivid that I can remember. Every year was a new beginning, an new opportunity, and a new chance. After the summer months my mind was ready to learn, and school was such a huge part of my life that even now just the idea of new school supplies sends me reeling. And so, fall meant school, too. It meant seeing everyone in one place again, meeting my new teacher, and swinging on the playground. Every fall my dad would take my sister to the apple orchard to get apples and a few pumpkins and they would bring back real honey that came in little tube-sticks. I'd stick a few of these in my pocket before heading off to school for band practice in the morning, and they'd be gone before the first bell even rang. The honey was pure and so sweet. Every now and then, Kelley would trade me a bit of deer jerky for one--eventually we were both hooked! It's marching on the field, playing the school song for the pep rally, it's Homecoming, and it's one last weekend camping out. It's bonfires and a cast party, it's the school play and cross country and TP'ing houses. It's trick-or-treat and it's the turning leaves falling one by one, ever-so-gently to the ground. It's a home-cooked meal on the table at 7 and a gentle wind in the trees. Fall is just so..it's...it's....it's sweater weather. And I love it.

I was just thinking...

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 04:17:13 GMT

The trouble with thinking is sometimes you think too much. You over-analyze, get confused or figure things out. Anything--literally anything--can run across your mind. Sometimes they lag a little, dragging their metaphorical little feet along the thought path. Where these thoughts go when they've gone I cannot say. Sometimes I chase after them like a child would a butterfly, trying to capture and keep all the good ones. Sometimes it's like watching a streaker on a unicycle riding down the street like a nudist. All I can think is, "Hm. That's interesting." Interesting for sure, but nothing that can hold my interest. What can I say? There's always something on my mind. Other times, they're truly extraordinary thoughts. I latch on to them, examine them, turn them over taking in every detail. When I'm satisfied, I like to fold them up and store them in my pocket for safe-keeping. The trouble with holding on to things is it's easy to forget. Unfortunately things you'd rather forget aren't so easily lost.

I was walking home from work this evening, thinking again. I was thinking about my life to this point. How much has changed and how much is still the same. Thinking about how easy it is to get busy and just how easily we forget what's important. Getting caught up/lost in the business of living; so much so that we forget to live. I think about that a lot. Time has always been a subject of interest to me. Indeed, it's something on which I fixate over and over again. They always say, "You've got all the time in the world..." when really we aren't guaranteed any time at all. I mean really, how much time is enough? My answer to this question is there isn't. There is never enough time to do the things we want to do, see the things we want to see, or spend with those we love. Later is such a dangerous word, one which more times than not makes an ugly transformation into Never.

So I had to ask myself today, "Whitley, what are you doing? What are you doing with your life??" It made me really sad. Nothing. I'd been doing nothing with my life. At least nothing worthwhile. I'd figured all of this out years ago, but in the chaos that is the collegiate transition I forgot. Sometimes I just feel like I'm being pulled in a million different directions, wearing so tight and thin to that I'm afraid I'll shatter and everyone will snatch and fight over all the pieces. Sometimes, too, I think all the madness of being here in the city makes me crazy. Everything's so rushed and it's a struggle just to keep up. It's almost overwhelming how busy it is here. I was sitting under the big tree by Crawford, just watching the cars zooming by. All the people rushing, too fast to touch. Such an impersonal feeling. I couldn't help but wonder-where are they rushing to? What are they rushing toward? They just honk and hurry and zip right on by, but do they ever really get anywhere? Everywhere's the same. Every day like the day before, every stoplight as red. People compartmentalized in their own little vessel idling, wasting time, growing colder and harder by the minute. Too concerned about getting to the next pit stop to turn on the radio or enjoy the ride at all. Had I really been idling, too? The heat off the concrete makes this place just a little bit hotter here and the sun doesn't shine quite as bright as it used to. Yet another of the adverse effects of the smog and the exhaust.

I need space and time and freedom and a chance to calm down, wind down, to catch my breath. I'm suffocating in the exhaust. I need open roads and country air, just long enough to figure things out and get back on track. I miss parts of my life before this place. I miss parts of who I was. And I miss home. I've known for a long time that life is too short to waste doing things that make us unhappy. It's too precious to be spent feeling miserable and dejected. It's so easily wasted. It's so easy to sink into routine, to go on auto-pilot. I refuse to walk around like a corpse. I don't want to be numb again and while I realize that the pain that I feel may cause me to stumble, I refuse to let it stop me. I will not be held back and I most certainly will not be prevented from the beauty that is truly living. I will run toward it. When I fall I will brush the hair from my eyes and get back up. When the mud becomes heavy and caked, I will carry it like a badge, and when parts of my body become weak and break, I will bite my lip and push harder. That which does not kill us makes us stronger, right? I just refuse to believe that my life will amount to nothing. What a waste.

I guess what I'm trying to say in some round-about, long-winded, and otherwise hyphenated way is that we are all products of creation with a shelf life of "Unknown". Too often I find myself sitting at the back of the cooler awaiting my expiration. Life's short and I'd much rather have something good come out of mine. Whether a plain bowl of oatmeal or a chocolate souffle, I just ask that I be use. Put me to some good use and let whatever's left of me go to compost, into the ground so that something-anything-may bloom and grow where once there was nothing.

Sorry

Wed, 14 May 2008 03:33:13 GMT

"Do you want to go somewhere else," they'd asked. No. Not really I didn't. "She's sleeping." If I said that I wasn't upset by this question, it would be a gross lie. What did it matter to me if she was sleeping? I could wait until she woke up. I wouldn't be loud. After all, I was just going to take notes while I waited. I hadn't seen her in a long time and I knew this week was going to be hard.

"Look, if you don't want me here just say so." I was pissed off and not hiding it very well. "She's having another nightmare," they said,"We're going to wake her up soon anyway." Not only did this statement make absolutely no sense to me, but it made me want to stay there even more.

"Do you want me to go? Is that what you're saying?" I hated when they beat around the bush like that. It made me feel stupid, the way they talked to me. Like I was a child or something, unable to comprehend basic sentences. Like being direct would make this hurt any less. "I'll just go. Whatever," I mumbled gathering up my books. "Thank you." I promised you that I would always be there. I promised you and I've failed again.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I can't fix this for you. If I could take it away, I would. I would do anything so that you didn't have to feel this kind of hurt. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to help you. I'm sorry if it seems like I've been a stranger for the past few weeks, and I'm sorry I couldn't be there when you needed me. I wasn't sure what to do. Every time I tried to get to you, I felt like I was being pushed away. There was always some excuse as to why I couldn't see you, some obstacle making it so I couldn't be there.

I'm sorry because I've needed you, too. A part of me feels like the last few weeks could've been much kinder to the both of us. I miss you so much. I miss staying up late and spending time with you. I miss talking. I hate this feeling and I hate that no one will let me in. Maybe they know better, but I think being apart has been hard for the both of us. Come to think of it I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for needing you because friends do need each other, especially when things are bad. And I'm not sorry that I feel this way because I love you so so much and it SHOULD kill me to not be there.

I wanted so badly to be there when you woke up. I just wanted to be able to give you a big hug and tell you everything's going to be okay. I know now that I should've stood up and said, "No. I'm not leaving. And you're not going to make me." I know we're supposed to respect the older kids and do what they tell us to do, but I think I know my place and I think even God would have understood that my place is beside you. Weren't the apostles there for Christ during his trials and tribulations, helping him along the way?

I am sorry, my friend. I've failed you in so many ways. I walked out of that room for about the millionth time, feeling helpless and weak, trying so hard to hold back the tears yet again. Even now as the tears flow and my sobs echo for everyone hear, I feel like the worst person. I am sick in my stomach and it won't go away. Do you remember 1st Corinthians? "Love is patient. Love is kind...It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." How weak I've been. I'll make up for it, I swear.

Scissors

Fri, 26 Oct 2007 03:53:17 GMT

Sometimes it's all you can do not to crack. Your heart quivers for a moment before slowing to a dull and aching thump. Your throat tightens and you can barely breathe, trying to swallow all the tears and the hurt before they come bursting out. Have you ever been forced to realize your greatest fear? Have you ever had to face the inevitable truth? Waiting in line to speak with the "Dr.", something held me back. I would hesitate, pretending that something else had caught my interest. Usually a social person, I allowed other people to push past me to our speaker. I listened as the other girls asked their questions, and waited anxiously for answers. The girl in front of me was the last question he took. I should've felt upset. Disappointed. Something other than the way I felt. The only thing I felt was relief. You see, I was scared. I was ashamed. I was afraid of what he would say. I knew as I watched him analyze the other girls that if I were to ask my question, he would see right through me and tell me exactly who I was. Exactly where I've been. There was no point in asking. I already know.

What I'd wanted to ask him was, "Where do I begin? How do you lose it if it was never had? Does the fact that I've never dated mean that I never will?" What I meant was, "Where do I begin? How do I find someone who is going to understand everything I've been through and who will still love me when I'm at my worst? Does the fact that my father abandoned me and every other male figure in my life has hurt me so much that I thought I would die mean I will never recover? Will I ever be able to trust someone enough to really let them in or have I gotten so used to being alone that all I'll never find love?" Tonight I realized that I will never find anybody. As much as I try, I can't get past all the shit I've been put through. I can't forget all the losers my mom dated. The cheaters. The pricks. The controlling ones. I can't forget their presence, and I can't forget watching them leave. Over and over again. I can't forget the look on my mother's face every time her heart was broken, the crying, the strain in her voice, watching her across the dinner table, barely eating. The lines etched so delicately on her face. I can't forget how every time they left her they left me, too, and having to put put the pieces back together again. I can't forget the ones I'd sought. How they teased me. Tortured me. Continually broke me, heart and soul, until I was shattered and fragmented, just slivers of broken glass. I've become so coarse and leathery. Nothing can penetrate this thick, thick skin. Nothing will erase the places I've been. I cannot forget. Cannot expel these memories. I can't let go. Move on. For my mother, it's always the same man.
Each time I get a little more cynical. A little more bitter. I will not, can not forgive that.

Before my senior year of high school, I had not cried-really cried- in almost two years. My doctors said I had issues with unexpressed anger. That I was a little depressed. The pent-up emotions I'd housed for so many years had no outlet and my health was suffering because of it. Anger? Hardly. Anger is what you feel when someone rear-ends your car. I wasn't just angry. I was livid. I simply cannot let go of the past. And so, I will never find love. The only way to enter a successful relationship, I believe, is to love yourself. You must be able to love yourself if you are to love somebody else. You've got to be able to make yourself happy because if you can't, no one can. You should be able to be yourself at all times, and you should want to be with someone who offers you just as much as you have to offer them. Never ask for more than you would be willing to give; you should be able and want to share everything. A relationship should give you opportunities to grow together. You need to be with somebody you can teach about life as well as someone you can learn from. Truly loving someone means loving all of them, not just the good parts. You can't build something like that if you're full of anger and hate. Foulness sours even the sweetest wine.

The road is long and lonely, but I've traveled it well. I feel weak wallowing in this self-pity. It has done me no good. Its effectiveness something like drowning an alcoholic in wine and ale. My heart is heavy, but sometimes I think I can see a light off in the distance. There is always a small hope that after so many failed attempts I will succeed, though I must admit it is hard to remain optimist. The thought can be agonizing , and the memories tear at my soul. I suppose we must learn to grow through the pain. Oftentimes it's that which tears us in two that puts us back together again. Perhaps when these careless children have finished ripping me to shreds, another will follow with the glue.