I miss him so much...

I know I'm not supposed to want him, but I do. I know I'm not supposed to need him, but I do. I know I'm not supposed to miss him, but I do. I know I'm not supposed to ache to be in his arms, but I do. I know I'm not supposed to love him, but I do. Everything I feel goes against everything I've always been told, but I don't care. You don't choose who you fall in love with.

Sitting here, looking at his pictures, seeing his smile, his aloof, "screw you" facade, disguising his beauty within. Few people see that man. I'm so blessed to know and love him. Man. For the first time, I can say I'm in love with a man. He's not a boy without any ambition or purpose. He may not have everything all together like he'd like, but he's on his way to great things.

God, I love him so much. I've never felt so...comfortable with anyone else. I know I'm not a beauty queen, or Ms. Popularity. I'm goofy, awkward, and a huge nerd. I feel more at home with a pile of books, a pencil and notebook to write in than with real people. Yet, in all my eccentricities, he sees something more in me, just as I see more in him. We see what we really are, and we love each other for it.

No matter how hard my day has been, when I can talk to him, I can't help but leaving with a smile. No matter how upset I am about anything, he knows how to take me out of the situation, and make me feel at ease just from a simple conversation. Nothing extravagant, no declarations or reassurances, (though he's adapt at that well enough) he just talks to me. He listens, and takes my mind away from my problem. And no matter how frustrated or scared I was before, he puts a smile on my face, and reassurance in my heart. He's my soft place to land.

Looking at pictures of him, I'd give anything to be in some of them. To be there, laughing with him, fighting with him, loving with him. We've known each other for so long, he's so familiar to me now. He's my sounding board. I read a new book, and automatically think "He'll love this." I find a new band and know that it's just his style, or that he'll hate it and I have to tell him about it anyway, just to tease him. I love to tease him. I love to know what the little things to say to put a smile on his beautiful face, and hope maybe I've brightened his day just a little bit. I feel safe with him, always have. We could talk for hours, and still not be finished. Our conversations brought us close, made us best friends, and somewhere along the way, I fell in love with my best friend. I always thought that was a corny phrase, but seeing it for myself, it's perfect. I trust him, would trust him with my life.

All I want now is the chance to be with him.

Famine

Bro Martin preached about famine's last night. Famines in our lives, and how we get through them. Of course, he said that it's most important not to turn from God in your famines. He also said, don't let them destroy you.

Destruction. That's certainly something my family would know a lot about right now. I don't think I can bare looking into my father's eyes again and seeing the pain, defeat, and anger there. It's as if the whole ordeal has sucked the life force, the very thing that made him my father...is gone. And that breaks my heart. I seldom see that old, happy smile he wore, or that light, that mischevious glint dancing in his eyes anymore. It's just a dull ache there. Seeing my family fall to pieces around me is the most gut wrenching feeling I've ever had. I've always believed that God has a plan that he "knows the way that I take," but right now I can't seem to find that thread of hope anymore. God promised us that he wouldn't put more on us than we can bare, but how are we supposed to bare this? How am I supposed to get up and watch the life slip further and further from his eyes? How am I supposed to go to church and pretend everything is fine, and that we're making it, when we're not? We're dying! My soul feels just like that picture right now: Dry and thirsty, begging and pleading for a little relief from this famine that has so completely enveloped us.

I've always felt that the symoblism for rain got a bad rap. Rain was always tied to gloom, sorrow, and trials. But, in reality, rain is healing. Rain is what heals the broken lands, it's a life force that rejuvenates all those that are in need. And we haven't had much of it lately. Ironically, this has been the wettest summer we've had in decades. Contrary to that, this has been the dryest summer of my life, spiritually. No matter where I try to turn, I can't seem to find relief. The tears that course down my face just feel like a mockery of what I can't seem to find.

With all my heart, I wish I had a message of hope, but that's one thing I can't seem to find right now. Hope. It feels like a far away dream that was long ago lost. I want, more than anything, to look up at the sky and see those billowing rain clouds roll my way, showering my in a stream of hope and healing. My favorite story in the Bible is the story of Elijah when he built the altar to God, after the prophets of Baal built their altar, and God sent fire down to burn the sacrifice. Then, after three years of famine, God tells him it's going to rain, so Elijah sits down and begins to pray, sending his servant every so often to check for rainclouds. After about the seventh time, he comes back, saying that he saw a cloud "like as a man's hand," and Elijah told him to go tell the king to get ready, because it was going to rain. God, I pray you will bring that rain to me once again.

The last thing Bro Martin said last night was that the famine never lasts forever. God....I claim that promise...in Jesus' name, I claim that promise.

Masks

This semester I'm taking a Shakespeare class all about his tragedies. It's rather ironic that it takes a tragedy for the mask to be torn away from right before my very eyes.

My best (guy) friend just lost his fiance' this weekend, and is a wreck. I'm just heartbroken for him, because they've been together for over a year, and they were so excited about getting married. He talked to me last night (after his sobbing had subsided), about how, in retrospect, he could see that God was taking care of him. Miraculously, he wasn't as devastated as he thought he would be. He was sure he would be incapacitated with grief at losing her, but in reality, he had the first good night's sleep he'd had in a long time. It's a wonder how God can take a terrible situation and bring a little light and comfort into it. As heartbroken as he is, he knows he's going to get through this. For the first time, almost since he's started dating this girl (which was part of the problem), he's finally turning to God and seeking him out. I couldn't be more proud of him. He's made plenty of mistakes, but he's also come a long way, and grown up so much.

I can't help but laugh at myself because in the course of trying to comfort and advise him, I'm telling him all the things I should be telling myself. "Put God first and he'll take care of you." "Turn to God, pray, he's ready to take care of you." All the things I should be doing myself. I don't have any problem praying for others. That comes so naturally, but when it comes to praying for myself, it's like I get this lump in my throat and I can't get the words out. As if I feel like God wouldn't want to hear what my own requests, my own needs, or desires. When in reality, he already knows them, even before I even know them. He's just waiting for me to push past my stubborn pride and just talk to him about all of it.

You know, everyone always says to treat God like a best friend. Now that I think about it, I don't like talking to my closest friends about my problems. I love helping them with theres, I thrive on it. But when it comes to me, I hate, abhor opening up like that. I used to think it was everyone else. No one would stop to realize that I was hurting or needed encouragement for a change. But in reality, I'm the one at fault. I do everything I can to hide my problems with an easy smile and a word of encouragement to others. I'm so quick to be a source of strength for everyone else, no one can see past that to see my own trials. Because I won't let them. Even when everyone knows that something is going on with me or my family, I just cover it all up with a nice little smile, and I can just imagine everyone thinking, "Wow, nothing gets to that girl."

But what scares me the most is that I don't know how to change. I don't know how to be more transparent. Which is rather laughable, because I used to think I wore my emotions on my sleeves. And when I want to, I do. But that's are the surface emotions. I honestly don't know many people that really know the real me. The me that gets more excited about a great book than anything else in the world, that thrives on writing, that absolutely comes alive in it. The me that can't wait to hop on the next plane to God knows where and just see the world. The woman who has found herself heartbroken more times than she'd care to admit, or who would rather spend an evening curled up on a couch with the person she cares about just enjoying being there with him. There are so many little things about me that no one really knows. Because I just don't let them know.

Is that the way I am with God? He knows all these things about me, but do I treat him like I do my friends? Do I hide myself from him, and try not to acknowledge my hurts, my joys, or myself? Obviously, it's not possible to do that, but am I trying to at least? I retreat into myself, brooding over whatever it is that's happening in my life. but what does that make me?

To be honest, this isn't something I'd considered before. I never saw myself as someone who hid from God, at least not in this sense. I'm starting to see things about myself that I haven't realized until now. I suppose that's the beautiful thing about writing things down. You discover something new all the time.

Word Vomit

I'm twenty-one years old. I'm an English Major. I'm an Apostolic Christian. I'm a woman. What more is that to say about me? So much. What am I willing to share? That's debatable. I share more in these blogs than I do in my whole life. I'm an expert at putting on a demure face and fooling the world into believing that there's not a lot going on up here other than what meets the eye. But in reality, there's this whole other side that no one knows about, no one sees. My mind goes nonstop about anything and everything. Something is always running through my thoughts, there's always something new to analyze, some new problem to disect. I'm not perfect, but to be completely honest, I love the fact that my mind is constantly working. I feel alive, sharp and worth something in that sense. I'm not just a "dumb blonde" that doesn't have anything going on under the hood.


Wow, I'm not even sure where all this word vomit came from but I wanted to write someting tonight, and this was the result. Beautiful, I know. I'm sure I'll win a Pulitzer. Goodnight everyone.

Full Circle

Well, it looks like I'm back where I started. Classes start in a week, and I'll be going back to campus. Looking back on the past year, it's incredible to see how far I've come, and how far I have to go. Sometimes I wonder if I've made any progress at all. Then I look behind me, and I realize that I've come farther in the past year, in so many ways, than I've ever come in all my life. I barely even resemble the naive girl that stepped onto the NSU campus last year. I don't even know her anymore, and part of me thinks that's a good thing, and another part finds it to be a terrifying realization. I'm in a time of my life where change is a good thing. Growth and evolution is formidable to who I will become. If I can't adapt to my environment, I'll never truly be the person I have the potential to become.

And yet...I see how much I haven't changed. I still have those same weaknesses, those same stumbling blocks, all the same vices. I wonder when I'll sincerely be able to say that I've overcome those things that cause me to falter. I want so desperately to become something more than I am, but I fear I'll never have the strength to do so.

And then there's him. After my last fiasco, I didn't think I'd ever even consider dating again. Well, I'm not considering it now. He's such a wonderful person, and such a good friend. And it's strange, because he was always there, sort of in the shadows. I never considered him as anything more than a casual acquaintance, but in the past couple weeks, he's become a lot more. I look forward to hearing his voice, and hate to hear him say he has to go. I feel exhilarated when I'm with him, like it's the most comfortable, natural thing. I don't know how this will develop, or if it even will, but I can afford to be patient enough to give it and him the time needed to see.

In all, this has been a very difficult year, but more than that, a year that I have learned so much in, and after it's all been said and done, I wouldn't want to trade what I've learned for anything. Life, in all it's heartache and frustrations, is truly good at the core.

The Precipice

So coming up for air after spending so long drowning in sorrow, I realize that there is so much more to it than that. I may not be wallowing in self-pity anymore, I'm also fighting to regain some semblance of the person I once knew. The only real emotion I seem to be able to hold onto is apathy. I feel so...numb to everything. Even the simple act of listening to old songs that used to speak to me...does nothing. The only ones that really have any affect are the ones that express the emptiness that's been carved out in my own lift.

I'm not sure where this road is taking me, but I'm so sick of this seclusion. I'm ready to break out, blaze new trails of my own, apart from the condescension I feel all around me. I am dying to break down this block that I can't seem to get beyond. I'm ready to leave the familiar behind, and run head-long into the unknown.

Sadly, that all sounds wonderful in my head, but it certainly doesn't add up to anything in reality. Why is it that 99% of people have all their hopes and dreams, but never actually go after them. Jimmy over there has a dream to be a concert pianist, but he's working in an elbow-to-elbow cubicle from 9-5, miserable ever flipping second of it. Is that going to be me, 5, 10 years from now? Will I head for my dreams, only to watch them be hurled off a cliff onto the precipice of reality below? I don't want that to be my story. I want to have a real, full, exciting story that I can look back on and say, "I did it. I did what I wanted to. I lived my dream, and I never regretted a minute of it." I want that so badly I ache inside. What if it doesn't happen though? What if, 20, 30 years from now, I wake up with five kids, and a pot-bellied husband who I haven't had sex with in nearly a year? God help, don't let that be my future. I may go to sleep and never wake up.

All I know is that I can't let my life be driven by fear, uncertainty of the unknown, or an innate desire to please everyone but myself. I HAVE to live my life for myself, do what I see to be best for ME (because we really are the only ones that truly know ourselves, right?), and not continue to ask myself what so-and-so thinks I should do. Or be too afraid to take that dive off the cliff into the cool waves of triumph below.

I want to take that dive.

New Horizons

For so long, I've allowed myself to sink into the dark abyss that is my heartache. I didn't share my pain with others, they wouldn't know how to deal with me. I bore my misery quietly, allowing myself to become lost inside myself. I couldn't bear the thought of the one I loved so deeply to truly be gone. I tried to fix things - I'm a fixer, if I see any possibility of a resolution, I'll go for it - but it was almost as if all my efforts were just being tossed carelessly back at me.

Silence. That's all I had. An unbearably resounding silence that seemed to stretch out endlessly before me. I wondered if it would ever end. My life seemed to be unraveling at the seams, and I didn't know how to catching everything fast enough, no way to hold it all together anymore.

So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I retreated into myself. I shut down, emotionally, physically, everything. Oh, to the untrained eye, everything seemed to have changed little. I still smiled and laughed in the right places, I even made the occasion jab at a dear friend. But, it was all merely a facade, a wall to keep out all the unanswerable questions that would surely arise. After all, what would be my answer? How could I explain my heartache, the feeling that something had died inside me? I couldn't, and I wouldn't. No one would be able to comprehend it inevitably, so it would have been useless.

Finally - finally - I'm beginning to resurface. It's taken so long. I never thought I'd come back. The numbness I felt inside extended further than I ever though possible. I've always seen myself as sort of a bleeding heart. I care too deeply, and ache too keenly. But lately...it's as if I had died inside. And maybe for a time I did. Maybe a part of me did die. The remnants of my childish dreams and ideas about the how the world should be. How love should be.

All my preconceived notions are gone, and I'm left with something else. Something I haven't quite figured out yet. I'm changing, turning into someone I don't quite know yet. But I've learned one thing, and that is to trust myself. To rely on myself. I don't have to be the damsel or the one who needs saving. And I don't have to try and be someones saving grace. I need to be my own. I need to stand alone. I need to be strong for me, not for someone else.

I'm so tired of trying to be this for this person, this for that person. I'm just ready to be myself for myself. I don't want to please anyone but myself anymore. I have ideas, opinions, and feelings that don't add up to others' and finally that's OK with me. If I don't please others with who I am, then maybe they aren't worth pleasing. I'm doing the best with what I've been dealt.

And as for my own "luckless romance..." I wish him all the happiness this world, and the next, can offer. I don't begrudge him anything. His goodness, kindness, and friendship, even for the short time I was able to bask in it, was all well worth the loss of it in the aftermath. I'll always hold a place in my heart for him, and I'll always miss my dear friend. I hope he finds what he's searching.

"Goodbye, my almost lover, my hopeless dream. Shoulda known you'd bring me heartache. Almost lovers always do..."