i'm no good at this

Well I guess I could've stayed ashore
I didn't have to go
They say sometimes to find yourself
You gotta let go
And the water's cold around me now
So far below
And I hear a voice beside me now
Just try to let go

And I'm still here
On the ocean floor
But the world's not
Moving anymore
In the quiet
Something has changed
And I can hear God
Call my name

But before I go I wanna take
A moment and rest
And look back on all my days above
And how I was blessed
And I wasn't all I could've been
That I'll confess
But I loved my God and family
No regrets

And I'm just here
On the ocean floor
And I can't feel my
Heartbeat anymore
In the quiet
Something has changed
And I can hear God
Call my name

-michael logen "ocean"

If You can hear me, just keep hearing me. I realize that I'm the one wandering, the one threatening to leave. You won't do the leaving. Oh, forgive.

wreck

Remember a couple weeks ago when I said this:

"And yet I am afraid that maybe I will be the one to hurt them- that maybe I have always been the one who has done the hurting. And I can try to blame it all on everyone else, but the reality is that I am the wreck. I'm the one who can't cope...with love."

Well, I was right.

It sucks so much to realize that you've inadvertently punched someone you care about repeatedly in the stomach. It appears that I hurt the people I care about whether I mean to or not. In the course of the last month, I've gone from thinking that I'm a pretty okay person to realizing that I am just pretty awful. I feel as though I spat out a bad taste and the wind flung it back in my face.

I've always been deeply afraid of people, but now I'm starting to fear myself as well. And silence is not golden. Silence is dangerous. I feel like all the time I've spent recently being positive about my life was just me pretending really hard. And if there's anything that infuriates me more, it's pretending. (That and being manipulated.)

Truth is, I don't know how to do this. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm a wreck. And I wreck things. I believe that life is a beautiful thing, but what a mess I tend to make of it. I'm not innocent of wrongdoing. I'm not the victim...I'm the victimizer. I've been blaming people for making me bleed when all along I've been the one holding the knife.

my eggs are scrambled, i think.

It's been dreary the last few days. I'm not sure what my problem is. I think some of it is due to fatigue and possible illness. And I've hypothesized that I had a crazy weekend with a lot of face time with a lot of people I don't know, so now my introverted self is making up for it by isolating myself as far as I can into my brain. I generally don't like to be spoken to, this week. I generally would just like to stay in my room and plug into my laptop. I generally haven't been sleeping well. I generally haven't been eating much. Not sure what it is that's bothering me.

Something probably is, though.

Interesting how things like these can both creep in almost unnoticed or barge in with an air-horn. You know?

I feel a breakdown coming. But I think I need it. Feels like a good cry is in there trying to get out because of some relevant issue that I refuse to consciously name. Just being happy isn't my style, I think. It's not complicated enough for me ;) Maybe it's just that I am an unhealthy happy person. I cling to it in an unhealthy way, I think. I don't know how to hold it in my hands without crushing it, so it just ends up oozing through my clenched fists like grape jelly. I need to realize that happiness is not the end goal of depression. Maybe they're not opposites.

Nevertheless, I feel a bit like I'm slipping. It happens, I guess. Better just deal with it. Figure out what's wrong and deal with it. Capiche.

perspective and proportion

It's so beautiful that we're small. That the world is big. That the universe cannot be fathomed. That life is in color- that the sky is blue and the trees are green. Today I like the feeling of being a small part of a big picture. I feel at home in my sliver of world when I look at it that way. I like that the world does not belong to me. That my money is not my money. I feel more beautiful being small than I do imagining myself to be big. I am one person, just one human, and that's all I can be- all I want to be. I want to just be a girl, not a god. A person, not a deity. Control is not mine. And it's supposed to be that way.

I love.

ending on a good note :)

Today started totally different than how it's ending now. What a blessing! God takes care of us, y'all. For real. What an overwhelming joy to know that God just...loves us. Loves me. I don't have to let myself be knocked down, and I won't. Not to say I still don't feel bad...because I really do. But what's done is done...right? It's just a relief to know for sure that God is not disappointed in me. That I have not ticked Him off. That in all the things I have done, He can only love and forgive me.

Thank You Jesus for giving me the encouragement I needed today. Thank You for overwhelming me with the kind of love that is built in You, for blessing me with friendships whose love for me is rooted in Your love. Wow. It may hurt, but I don't care. Isn't that joy? Joy. Joy! What a beautiful Person You are! You are so good... Teach me to love You better. And You love me. You love me. I am a wreck in the center of my being, but You just love me. Lord, give me guidance. "Where You go, I'll go." I believe right now that You're really listening, and I can feel Your heart for me...and I pray for the clarity to know what I want and to be okay with wanting it. I pray for the wisdom to know Your truths and Your guidance, and I pray for the boldness to act in faith, to follow in obedience. Help me to trust You. Thank You for catching me before I hit the bottom Lord- it is not Your will for me to wallow in my sin and my faults and my mistakes and in my own misery. What good does that to do anyone or even me? I love You. Thank You for loving me.

me again.

Hello. I feel like I've been blogging a lot lately, but I've just been doing so much thinking. And I remember my best thinking when I write it down. I'm currently improvising with a small desk. I put my stool directly to my right and have my laptop sitting on it, while my painting things are in front of me on my desk. Kind of like an L-shaped desk, but not. Anyway, I feel creative tonight. Hence the creative set-up.

It's been interesting lately. I guess I don't quite know what to do. But the truth is...I can't do it. And I can't change my mind now. And every time I think about it, the music just can't be loud enough. What I would give for life to not be such a messy thing. And I want you to know that I am sorry. Deeply sorry.

Honestly, I'm a little worried. I'm doing better, but there still seems to be this broken plastic latch that I keep falling over, and I am paralyzed. Like there's a part of me that is just...defective. Incapable of handling...that. And I for the life of me can't figure out why. All I can do is sit in my room and look around, watching the room change as my thoughts do. I can't stand to see myself in someone else's reflection. I can't stand to see myself looking back at me from the reflection in someone else's eyes. Do you hear me? I can't let myself be in the hands of a man.

I do try. I tried so hard. The hardest I have ever tried to do anything. Really. And in the end I was relieved to let it walk away from me. It really is sad, isn't it. Possibly for the best, but sad the way I seem to work. I can be glad that I am being more open with people, that I am much less afraid of them. And yet I am afraid that maybe I will be the one to hurt them- that maybe I have always been the one who has done the hurting, because I can't do it no matter how hard I try or how badly I may want it. And I can try to blame it all on everyone else, but the reality is that I am the wreck. I'm the one who can't cope...with love.

After all this thinking I am no closer to understanding.

there once was a girl

There once was a girl.

She both liked and disliked the concept of living, as it was equally terrifying to her as it was beautiful. She felt more safety in black and white than in colors, and sought the clean definition of a pen rather than the vague smear of a brush.

Ah yes, drawing lines had always come naturally to her.

There once was a girl.

She lived much more of her life in her head than in reality. Her thoughts spun and wove and grappled and moved. She laughed and smiled as the world ticked by, and at night the ceiling looked back at her as she sighed and wept and longed herself to sleep.

Oh no, feeling had never been a strange thing to her.

There once was a girl.

She sought out no intense desires of her own and struggled with her shy wants. Her complicated nature scared her, and so she stayed alone most of the time, hoping to escape her relationships unharmed. She deeply feared to let anyone in.

The locked door had always been a friend to her.

There once was a girl.

She had become numb to most of her existence when she stumbled upon goodness. She decided it deserved to be believed it, and so believed it. With goodness came fun, with fun came joy, and with joy came life. Life became something worth taking a risk for.

The budding of a rose became an inspiration to her.

There once was a girl.

She climbed the tallest tree and looked out as she ascended branch by branch. And though she felt each pang of fear bite her with each hand-hold she found, she was more and more overcome by the beauty of it all. And so she pressed onward, goodness smiling.

The sky and the world became fresh air to her.

There once was a girl.

She gave up her love affair with pain to chase goodness. Pain, though faithful, had never been a suitable lover anyway. With the loyalty had come possessiveness. She would never go back. And if she fell now from the highest branch, she would climb it all again.

Life became an invaluable thing to her.

There once was a girl.

And she left behind her childish ways and broke out into the light, afraid but full of hope. She became strong and bold, alive and true. She looked down and could no longer spot the shade of the branches she clung to now. Never again would she cower below in the shadow of life.

Her heart became beautiful to her.

There once was a young woman.

And I will never go back.