teach/me/please/let/me/know

Mood: chaotic

Music: I’ve been looking in the mirror for so long. That I’ve come to believe my souls on the other side. Oh the little pieces falling, shatter. Shards of me, To sharp to put back together. To small to matter, But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces. If I try to touch her, And I bleed. Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirits well. Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child. Lie to me, Convince me that I’ve been sick forever. And all of this, Will make sense when I get better. I know the difference, Between myself and my reflection. I just can’t help but to wonder, Which of us did you love.

Interesting thought: nada. 

kay guys. here’s that entry. the long one i’ve promised. va. va. va. va. va.

may 23rd, 2004

talk about a gorgeous morning. i’ll never forget it.

this was the only morning there were blue skies. it was the only morning in which i got 20 minutes of sleep, at best. it was the morning that he and i were on the beach at 4:30am, under the stars. i sat there with a ton of my drama club friends…. next to a gorgeous bonfire, next to the breath-taking ocean, with an even more perfect boy right next to me. not perfect in the sense of flawless, but perfect in the sense that there was no one i’d rather be next to.

and when he fell asleep, he shivered and looked cold. i looked at him, and gave him my coat, knowing fully that it was something that were he awake he’d insist i not do. i got off of the unzipped sleeping bag we’d been sitting on and folded it over him. and i sat there with him. held his hand, sang to him, prayed for him, kept the sand off of his face. but mostly i watched as he slept.  

june 20th, 2005

he picked me up after work and drove me to my house. he waited in he car while I changed clothing, and then we drove for the river. wading in under the deep blue afternoon sky was perfect. he taught me to swim better, saved me from drowning a few times, laughed, held my hand, let me splash him, smiled at my never wanting to leave the water. he wasn’t having that much fun, he was cold in the water and wanted to get out. we left and drove to another town so that we could go shopping. he treated me to dinner, and afterwards we went and watched the special extras on the "Holes" DVD. He stayed with me until the last possible moment he could.

I have every possible reason to be happy. Jesus died for me. God’s blessed me with a job, the best boy I could ever ask for, friends, health. Why oh why oh why can I not be happy? I don’t feel unhappy most of the time, but I just don’t feel happy often either. Sure, when I’m at church or with Rich I am genuinely happy.  I don’t get it. I want to seem happier, I want to smile more.

so and then there is doing youth outreaches which is about as terrifying as you can get. it’s way way way bigger than me. and i’m continually trying to remember to give it to God and not do it myself. but holy cow that’s hard. we had our first outreach last Wed. wow oh wow it was… chaotic. we had one new visitor. which is great. i dunno guys. i feel like i have to be so serious about it because no one else is. it’s like i’m relying completely on me and i know i shouldn’t be. #1) duh, God has got this under control & #2) other people can be trusted. ugh. how do you do that? trust other people with things that are so intimately important to you? i wish someone else (or someones) would step up and say "hey i’m intrested and i’m reliable, let me help. i want to do this. i have a passion for it just like you do."

so is that the most terrifying thing? um no probably not. there’s the whole issue of my future. and all the things i need to do. i get freaked out of everything. gah. and i know that i don’t reveal this to anyone because i’m strong right? independent? so is my fear of everything in anyway related to my lack of apparent happiness? who knows.

oy.

Jesus, take me and mold me and help me to be less scared and more joyful. Help me to learn to give things to you and not try and do everything. Keep helping me to have your compassion. – Amen