nights like these.

It's nights like these I feel very alone. Not in the depressed sort of sad sense of aloneness, but more like I have been walking this earth for the last twenty two years alone, without my compliment. For some reason tonight I feel the ache that comes with the longing for love and commitment. I don't see even a wisp of promise here, in that regard. I can't think of anyone in my life right now who fits the bill, who could be a sort of warm blanket to my shivering soul.

Generally I'm afraid of commitment- mostly because I'm afraid of being committed to someone who maybe ought to belong to someone else. But tonight I can feel that there is someone missing. Part of me is afraid I'll go the rest of my life alone like this, with only loneliness as my faithful bridegroom. I guess I don't have a choice but to hope he's out there somewhere.

I really don't like to write sappy stuff like this. But. Tonight...I wish he were here. Tonight I wish there was a hug waiting for me, a hug bearing patience and encouragement- and a smile and a laugh selflessly extending comfort and love. Tonight I wish I belonged to the excitement of a new last name, to the promise of a tomorrow that could hold my hand and vow to always be by my side.

So, if you're out there- I'm thinking of you tonight.

[listening to In Your Atmosphere by John Mayer]

some changes need to be made.

I want to be in bed by 11, and it is 10:57, so I'll speed type my way through what I've been thinking about this week.

I've been reading Father Fiction by Don Miller, and though he doesn't expound on most of the ideas he brings up, it gets me thinking about my life. I've recently confessed to myself that I am immature. I don't like that word. But, it's the truth. I used to blame my behavior on my fear and lack of self-confidence- which is true too, but I think that even those areas would improve if I stopped being immature about the things I am immature about.

Also, I've discovered that I am exceedingly concerned about my own well-being. I don't think that means I'm selfish, but instead that I am always analyzing the role I play in any given situation or circumstance. I think that probably is good at a simple, fundamental level, but not good when I take it too far- so much so that I often am not conscious of the "big picture"- the picture wherein I have a very small and finite role that I should learn to take only as seriously as necessary (it's 11:02. better hurry this along.).

And, the stress and importance I place on "what could be" is overkill. I tend to idealize everything and long after the wrong things, or- long after the right things way too much...and then I freak myself out and give in to my fear of not being good enough to have what I long for. I succumb much too easily to fear- so much so that it pervades every square inch of my life, deeming it nearly impossible for me to feel successful... I am afraid to make the wrong decision, so I don't make any decisions. I do nothing, and so deceive myself into thinking I'm just being overly cautious when I'm really guaranteeing failure at EVERYTHING because I am too afraid to work hard (man- 11:09 i can be so long winded!).

All this to say, I ought to grow up now. I ought to practice self-control like my life depends on it, because in a way it does, and I ought to refuse my "need" to feed my sense of fear about everything. It's time I put my finger down and stop pointing it at the possible reasons for my circumstances and flaws. There's nothing left to do now but accept it, and move on.

Because that would be the mature thing to do.

I don't need to be afraid of what I make my obstacles appear to be. My fears are not bigger than me, and they are not bigger than my God. Despite everything that has happened, I need to remember that.

(it's 11:15- i always have so much more to say than i think i do!)

goodnight.

today.

I am now 22 years old.

I remember where I was a year ago. Curled up on the couch, secretly wishing I could escape my own birthday party, escape the people, escape my life, escape time and circumstance. And a year later I can't say whether I'm much happier now.

I'm beginning to wonder if life isn't about happiness. I think I would be okay with that, but the problem is I don't know what life is about instead. It seems we're all chasing this idea of what it means to be happy, this idea of what it means to feel like everything is in its place, like everything is right, and we're in love with it all.

But honestly, things are never right. There are fleeting moments of pure beauty and joy, but I can't claim them as mine any more than I can create them. I can't keep them in a jar to save for later- they pass through my fingers as soon as they arrive. And the things that seem to stick to my soul like molasses are unfortunately the things I wish life did not consist of: confusion, hurt, misunderstanding, anger, jealousy, chaos, hate, fear, inadequacy, mistakes.

I find myself at this time in my life shying away from it all, sitting in my lost-ness, looking at my still feet, singing beneath my breath to people passing by, looking into their eyes only as long as I can bear to. I am scared to love. I find myself looking at my hands and asking them why they've done the terribly destructive things they've done. I sit quiet at His feet, too scared to ask Him or anyone else whether it's too late to still be innocent.

Is it too late to empty my jar of its bloody molasses and fill it instead with lightning and fireflies?

vacation.

I got back today from spending two days in Duluth with my mom. She and I both agreed that while we planned to go we had our doubts that we would actually go. But we did, and the weather was beautiful and we saw a lot of the town I hadn't seen before. Because we went so late in the season, the trees were bare and the scenery wasn't as interesting, but there were a ton less tourists out and about, which made traveling much easier. And we got the room closest to the pool, which was nice too.

However, I can't say that I had a lot of fun. I didn't have an amazing time. I spent most of the trip being irritated by my mother's tendencies to point out every sign she sees, as if I'm five years old and don't have eyes to see for myself. I was constantly fighting her in my mind, fighting off her over-explanations for every tiny detail of everything that I already know about or didn't need to know in the first place. It was hard to be excited about anything when I felt like she was pointing out anything at all just so that she could get a positive reaction out of me. The whole time we were in Duluth, I felt like there was something keeping me from really enjoying myself there- from feeling like I was on vacation- from feeling like I wasn't at home. Sitting back in Sartell, I don't feel like I ever left. That's a very obnoxious feeling to feel when I paid a lot of money to go there.

It's definitely not lost on me that I have issues with my parents. I don't like sharing anything with them. I don't want them to be involved in anything because when I do I feel like it's no longer mine. They have this ability to control me and hold me back without even realizing it. They make me feel small without meaning to. I want to get away from them. They make me want to run. I feel like the only way I can have a life that feels like MINE is if I left; if they had no part in my life or at least very little.

Going on vacation with my mom made me realize that I feel very held back by my parents, that I have little happiness when I have to answer to them about what I do.

But, I guess it's okay for parents to just be parents. I don't have to get along with them. I don't have to agree with them about everything. The only struggle is convincing them that sometimes I know what I'm doing, and that sometimes they don't know everything. What an unfortunate struggle.

Feeling very discouraged tonight about all this. Aren't vacations supposed to recharge your batteries and restore your sense of sanity?