Im so fucking tired of trying, putting in all the effort, and waiting for you to come around. I'm just fucking sick of it. I'm so hurt right now, all I ever do is to please/impress you, but I guess it's not enough cos nothing is EVER enough. I'm done. I'm done hurting. I'm done crying. And I'm definitely done with feeling like I mean absolutely nothing to you. Once, just ONCE I want to feel like I'm not just there because it's nice to have me there, but because you NEED me there. I fucking bend over backwards and jump through hoops for you. And the worst part is, I know the second you call my name, I'm going to buckle and crawl back just as fast as before.

And just like that...

It's done. I should have known. And now I'm falling and trying to breathe. In reality, I fell too hard and now I'm just reaping what I have so carelessly sewn. I'm so fucking pathetic and stupid.


Je suppose que l'amour est juste nit mon truc.

School, School, School

College. To say that I am both happy and excited for all of my friends to begin their new lives as college students and venture into the world of adulthood would be an understatement. It's such a huge leap of faith and I admire them so. They all have worked so hard to get there and I am so proud of them. But to say the thought of my friends leaving scares me would be an even bigger understatement. I depend on them far too much for it to be considered by any means healthy or rational. Don't get me wrong, I'm trying to learn to lean on God more, I am. But I don't think I'm strong enough to win this battle on my own. Maybe this is God presenting me with the opportunity to learn to stand on my own two feet? Maybe it's time for me to take the incentive and make an actual effort for myself and get better on my own. Who the he'll knows? But what I do know is that today, everything hit me with the weight of a freight train. To be honest, I'm scared to death. They're all leaving, they're doing great things with their lives, but I'm being left behind. I sound pathetic. Really. I did this to myself.


I just don't want them leave.

Fed Up.

Fuck it. If I'm not that important to you, fine. So be it; I'm done trying. I'm tired of feeling bad for something that I can't handle on my own; something I’ve spent years in counseling trying to fix, yet have been completely and totally unsuccessful thus far. When I said it wasn't something that I could help, I meant it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I am sorry.






But for now, I am done.

Fin

Like a rocket hurdling back to earth, the vessel couldn't stop building momentum as it prepared itself for a crash landing on the cold, hard ground. Falling, falling, speeding down to the very ground, where just a months prior, took its momentous leap from the earth, inching its way up and over the sky, knowing not of the dangers one must face upon re-entry. And then, at the very last moment, when hope seemed altogether lost and the passengers within took what they believed to be their last breaths of precious air, their lifeline, the parachute, deployed. With a thud, the shuttle began losing speed, bringing those within back down to earth with only minor bumps and bruises. Equipped with a whole gamut of new experience and a pocket full of stories to tell, the pilots found a new respect for adventure, bid each other adieu and returned home.







This isn't the end. This is just a new beginning.

Being Alive

What’s the point in trying- really? I always seem to screw things up or just have things screw up. I’m always looking for something else, something better. My problem lies in being content; problem is: I’m NEVER content. Arms are never welcoming enough to hold me. Words are never warm enough to console me.

Somebody, hold me too close,

Somebody, hurt me too deep,
Somebody, sit in my chair
And ruin my sleep
And make me aware
Of being alive,
Being alive.

Somebody, need me too much,
Somebody, know me too well,
Somebody, pull me up short
And put me through hell
And give me support
For being alive,
Make me alive.

Make me confused,
Mock me with praise,
Let me be used,
Vary my days.
But alone is alone, not alive.

Somebody, crowd me with love,
Somebody, force me to care,
Somebody, make me come through,
I'll always be there,
As frightened as you,
To help us survive
Being alive,
Being alive,
Being alive!

I don’t think I’ve ever related to lyrics more than that. Life is moving too fast. I hurt far too easy. I care too much. I need to let go. I need to stop, think, and create a game plan. Life is far too short to just coast through. It's time to take the keys, pack the car, drive- it’s time to turn off Auto-Pilot and take the wheel and drive.

Lately.

Recently, I've had a lot on my mind. Lately, my innermost conscious has been taking me down "What-Am-I-Doing-With-My-Life-Lane." But really, what am I doing with my life? Yes, I'm loving on people, but am I making disciples? I feel as though my whole life is running past me in a rhythmic marathon and I cannot find the beat; I've been edging along with a tune that can't find it's sound and traipsing down into a syncopated world of driving cluster-chords. Sure, they sound beautiful together when the product is finished, but that type of tuning takes time to get used to: time, I'm afraid I do not have.

I feel as though I've taken three steps forward and two back, but maybe these are the directions enlisted on the map? Perhaps I missed the turn and I need to go back to advance forward? Yes, I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel I have subconsciously dug myself into. The only way out is to keep moving, I suppose.

As coherent as these thoughts seem to be, they really aren't. I have come to the conclusion that life is most definitely a game. I've got the right tools: good friends, a loving family, and most importantly God, but do I have the right strategy? I would like to think so, but I should say not. I've been dealt the right hand, but now I need to roll the dice. And as my last year in high school begins to come to a racing end, I can only think of how far I've come and where I'm going. That's life I suppose: here's to second chances.