Wednesday, January 14, 2015

So amidst all the angst and utter heartbreak on my blog (I've been perusing old posts), I've realised how strong I am (not on my own, but with God of course).

Wow.

Life is a crazy rollercoaster ride.

But God is in control.

And that is freaking amazing.

It's all that matters.

It's been too long. Here's a post.

I want to be seen.

I'm tired of hiding. It's so hard to be honest. So, so hard.

I'm scared of opening up. I really like keeping things inside, not letting the whole world inside so that everyone knows what is going on with me all the time.

But the thing is, I'm not transparent. People can't see inside my soul to what is going on and magically fix me. I have to tell them. I learned that today reading 'Love Letters To The Dead' by Ava Dellaira.

If I have children, lately I've been imagining children just for the sake of giving them pretty names like Hope.

I love that word. Full of promise. Life. Dreams. Life. Life. Life. Life.

I'm beginning to realize that I am emotionally damaged.

Like REALLY emotionally damaged.

I'm afraid to trust men. I'm scared they will rape me, molest me, hurt me, verbally or physically abuse me.

Or emotionally abuse me. Like bully me.

It's not healthy. It's not good for me.

It will consume me if I do nothing about it.

And I don't want to die.

I really, really don't.

Of course there are days when it seems easier just to go up to heaven, because my life here is so, incredibly difficult.

And I keep seeing how things are supposed to be, when I should be living with how things are now. 

Otherwise I'll never be happy, always looking ahead.

Always afraid of the memories, the moments that hold me in grip, causing me to slide into the shadows of embarrassment, pain and shame.

I have also realized that I am really sensitive. And there's nothing wrong about that.

Seriously there isn't.

It simply means I feel everything. I notice everything. And it is extremely overwhelming.
This is why I have to be careful what I read, because a book can wreck me for weeks, because I feel everything that the main character feels.

The scary thing I've always known is that if I want I can visually and really put myself into another's persons shoes.

But it is so tiring, even for a few minutes, and I then I realize just how hard life is for everyone.

It's so painful. And only scattered with barely a handful of happy memories.

And those memories are the ones we grip onto when we are falling off the cliff.

It's Hope.

We live for moments like that. Seriously, we live each day, hoping that it'll be a good, hoping it'll be that moment, but then if every day is that moment, we won't have days where we will need those moments and if we don't have days where we will need those moments, then we won't appreciate those days, and if we don't appreciate those days, well then we won't even realize that we are having a good day, it'll just be a day. Our eyes will be dull.

The world will be black. Black. Black.

Sucking you in.

Color: summer days, cloudless blue skies, sparkling waters, hot yellow rays, voices, crinkling of biscuit packets, tinkling of china, sugar, movies, music.

Music soothes you.

It speaks to your soul, it's like ice cream for your heartache. It mends you somehow. It reaches the depths of you - where the ache is - and it sits there, and it breaks you, you feel exactly what they are singing and that is magical. Because mere words can never do that.

But singing? Singing always can. Something about melodies.

Something about the rhythm of poems.

Envy and jealousy and bitterness and hurt. I really don't want them anymore. I never want to experience them again.

I want to be happy. Content. Joyful. Peaceful. I want the fruits of the spirit, not the flesh. Not the flesh.

I don't believe stars are just rocks or just balls of gas, or whatever the latest "scientific theory" suggests.

A Creator created this universe, and I need to believe that there is a reason for everything, because if there isn't, then everything would be meaningless, and that would just make me incredibly depressed.

Because we are just like 72 or 82 years of life. Nothing really.

We really are nothing. Just a body of atoms.

Our life has to mean something. It just has to.

It's too heartbreaking to think otherwise.

It's too heartbreaking to think of all the people that the Israelites killed, or that weren't the chosen ones in the Old Testament and got killed.

All those innocent children.

Didn't they matter to you God?

Couldn't you have hit the re-start button straight after Adam and Eve?

Why the long-term plan?

If you KNEW all things, then you had to know Adam and Eve would screw up, so why did you choose us to suffer? Because that's sadististic.

But if you didn't know all things, and our life is still partly shielded from you because our life is not determined, then you can't be God. You can't be an omniscient being.

It's heartbreaking really how truly messed up this whole is. Our family.

Me.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Monday, June 4, 2012

May

escapism
noun
the avoidance of reality by absorption of the mind inentertainment or in an imaginative situation, activity, etc.

I found myself wondering what I will have to pay for freedom.
I've been to the top. It's endless.

I found myself by the docks again. Waiting.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

I've never felt more like having a good cry and running far away. The strange thing is today hasn't been that bad. 

Sunday, May 27, 2012

d i s s a p p e a r

f r e e 

h o m e 

t r a n q u i l i t y

c o h e s i o n

h a p p i n e s s

l o v e

t i g h t  h u g s

k i s s e s  o n  t h e  t o p  o f  y o u r  h e a d 

f r i e n d s

b o y f r i e n d s

s l e e p o v e r s

c h o c o l a t e

f i l m s 

b o o k s 

s h o p p i n g 

d a y d r e a m s

n i a l l  h o r a n

f r e d d i e  h i g h m o r e 

etc.