last night i just had to get out. i was sitting in my bed thinking about how much i just want to go home. but i kept telling myself... angela there is just nowhere to go. but around ten fifteen i just couldn't stay there any longer... i ran outside and the whole world was shaking... i got in my car and ended up driving to the revue. i just had to go home.
i ordered my camomile tea and sat in one of the back corner booths. the same one vicente likes to sit at while he's drawing pictures of my friend laura. i listened to jj heller and opened my bible... but i couldnt read... all i could do was listen.
"dont let your eyes get used to darkness
the light is coming soon
dont let your heart get used to sadness
put your hope in what is true
no matter how the wind may blow
it cannot shake the sun
lay your sorrows on the ground
its time to come back home."
and look. all i could see was the empty space across from me. there was no one there. but my mind started forming a person... i had never realized how strong my imagination was... but all of the sudden there were the hands lying on the table next to mine... there were the shoulders leaning forward and the ears turned attentively to my tears... and i could see the concern and confidence in his eyes. i reached my hand out and touched his... and instead of being angry this time... instead of asking God how much longer my imagination would be my only solace... all i felt was sorrow. and all i could do was sit there and look. well and cry. but that was a given.
so eventually my apparition of love faded away and i opened up my bible again. and you would not believe the first thing i read. i mean you would not believe it...
"Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison,
while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal."
that was one of those kind of moments that changes your life.
maybe you get it... maybe you dont. it doesnt really matter. what matters is... that empty space was full of promise. not possibility... but promise. He was there. and the fact that I couldnt see Him was all the proof i need.
i was home.
angela
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
epiphany
we want to be alive. we want to cry and laugh and dance and sing. today i was watching csi on the internet... and i dont know of any of you follow the story... but at the end of the last season one of the main csi's was murdered. so the first episode of this season was all about finding his killer and mourning his death. the very last scene was the at the funeral, and grissom was giving the eulugy. he was all choked up and couldnt finish it... all he could say was "i am going to miss him alot." and i am just so enraptured by this scene that i dont even notice that i am totally crying. and then there was this split second moment in my brain where the sensation of the tears running down my cheeks must have somehow collided with the pictures that were being delivered to my mind and bang... i had it. an epiphany. i understood why i love to watch tv so much. because i want to be alive! i want to experience life to its fullness, good emotions and bad. the richness of life is so muted by all our... conveniences. we are all so muted. there are things that pull us out from the damp gray sea that we live in... if even for a moment. like music for example. sometimes when you listen to the right song what you feel is all the sudden amplified like a hundred times. colors seem brighter, the sky is bluer, and the scent on the wind is sweeter. it almost seems as if you have been pulled into a different reality. but what i am proposing is this... what if that is reality? what if the whole world is singing and we just arent listening? what if each of our lives are songs in themselves? what if we are so distracted by all the voices in our ears that we cant hear the music? and im not just talking about the songs that make you feel good but the sad ones too. the requiems and the dirges and the "nobody knows the trouble ive seen" kind of songs. true pain and pleasure seem to be lost in this instant gratification, living without consequences provides a life of no consequence.
well i want to live. i want to feel it all. the bad and the good. the whole and the broken. the question and the answer. a life of mystery and adventure awaits the person who takes the unbeaten path. it takes work and patience but what i am starting to see is that its worth it. really living is really worth it. and thats the kind of life i want to offer to the people i love. because the music is always playing and we are all apart of the song. because the colors really are brighter than they seem. because we all want to be alive... even when we dont know what living is.
well i want to live. i want to feel it all. the bad and the good. the whole and the broken. the question and the answer. a life of mystery and adventure awaits the person who takes the unbeaten path. it takes work and patience but what i am starting to see is that its worth it. really living is really worth it. and thats the kind of life i want to offer to the people i love. because the music is always playing and we are all apart of the song. because the colors really are brighter than they seem. because we all want to be alive... even when we dont know what living is.
Monday, June 9, 2008
onday, June 09, 2008
- who am i doing this for? is it for Him? is it for me? is it for her, for them, or even for those?
no one is inside my head. no one is inside my heart. no one walks, runs, or jumps, down the hallways of my mind. no one looks around a corner or into an empty room. solidarity. beauty. fire. courage. if i could just have the courage. i never imagine that life that would be this way. i never pictured the challenges i would faced. i never knew what it meant to hate my life only to save it, to die only to live eternally. for the first time i am truly writing this only for myself. i dont need an audience anymore. i have moved on. because i realized that sometimes there is just no one there on the other side of the wall. sometimes in this world you can be really truly alone.
lamentations 1:7
"In the days of her affliction and wandering
Jerusalem remembers all the treasures
that were hers in days of old. "
lamentations 1:9
" 9 Her filthiness clung to her skirts;
she did not consider her future.
Her fall was astounding;
there was none to comfort her. "
lamentations 1:13
" 13 "From on high he sent fire,
sent it down into my bones."
lamentations 1:16
" 16 "This is why I weep
and my eyes overflow with tears.
No one is near to comfort me,
no one to restore my spirit."
lamentations 2:13
" 13 What can I say for you?
With what can I compare you,
O Daughter of Jerusalem?
To what can I liken you,
that I may comfort you,
O Virgin Daughter of Zion?
Your wound is as deep as the sea.
Who can heal you?"
lamentations 3:21-29
"21 Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.24 I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."25 The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;26 it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.27 It is good for a man to bear the yoke
while he is young.28 Let him sit alone in silence,
for the LORD has laid it on him.29 Let him bury his face in the dust—
there may yet be hope."why do i keep on doing this? why do i sit here in the silence day after day and mourn and weep before the throne? maybe i havent quite figured that out yet. but i do know that i cant stop. He has sent fire down into my bones. i didnt know it was possible to long for someone this much. i never knew that i could want Jesus more than i want life. but i do. He is all that matters to me. if i cant follow Him, if i cant be with Him, if i cant love Him, if i cant serve Him, if i cant be in the presence of the Father, then there is absolutely no point to me existing. do you get what i am saying here? i really mean it. this is it. there is no turning back. nothing else will do.
i have started to give up hope that i will find someone with the same passion and desire that i have. for some reason i have really been hoping to find someone to link hands with as we take a running jump off a cliff and into the ocean of His love. i wanted to find someone who wanted Him more than the air they breathe. i wanted to find someone who was ready to let it all go. i mean all of it. maybe its just time for me to jump off the cliff on my own. someday though, i believe with all my heart, that i will find that person. or maybe even more than one. they are out there. and they're looking for me.
you'll come like the rain.
Monday, April 14, 2008
disappeared.
Well… I figure its about time that I tell you my story. I’m sure you are curious as to where I have been these past couple of weeks, why I haven’t returned your text messages, phone calls, or comments. Well… its been quite interesting actually…
It all started in the last week of March, consequently the first week in which I had been able to connect with a lot of my old good friends. Aruna was in town… and we got to spend a lot of fun time together. We hung out at Ben’s house and Jonathan was hilarious, Joe was sexy, Nu was boisterous, and Christine was kind and warm. We made a movie and then we all went to the movies and played halo at Joe’s. I spent some time talking to both Nu and Brandon in the car and it was good, refreshing you could say, a nice cool stream flowing through the loneliness that has been my life for the past few months. But for some reason… It just made something click inside of me. It brought back all those memories I had been trying to ignore. For the last few months I had stopped crying… stopped mourning over the loss of friendships, closeness, warmth, joy. I had just accepted it as a part of who I was and I just lived in miserableness as an unchangeable reality, not even noticing that I had transformed to a sad, hurting person, to a fundamentally sick one.
You have got to understand something, this has been a long hard journey for me and I have looked up one road and down another for healing, for enlightenment, for change. But as many times as I have tried, I have failed, and every single time I get back on my feet I fall even farther down. Everything I have done for the past two years has been a struggle to me, even down to waking up in the morning or making myself something to eat. Struggle, difficulty, and pain are the air I breathe and to tell you the truth I can’t figure out why. I don’t understand why. Well I know “why”, it’s because I am sick. Its because my synapses are fried and my brain isn’t working right. Its because my genetic make-up, because every single person that I have ever met or just heard of on both sides of my family have been diagnosed with some form of mental illness, mostly depression but some more severe. One being my own biological father who has Borderline Multiple Personality Disorder, depression, and anxiety. I’ve inherited this illness. But the question I ask of the Lord is why. Why do you want me to be this way? Why have you left me like this when I have tried so hard, fought so hard, loved so hard? What else is it that you want me to do? Who else is it that you want me to be? What else do you want me to say? Why can’t I be healed?
But back to the story. So I sunk low… real low… lower even then when I actually tried to commit suicide… heck I didn’t even know it was possible to go lower than that. It was like all the pain of the last few months decided to let itself lose on my psyche in one weekend… and eventually I realized that I no longer had control of my own mind, that I was slipping in and out of rational thought. I had violent uncontrollable images dancing in my head and some very strong urges to do something violent to myself. I could see myself hanging from ceiling rafters or laying dead in the bathtub with long lines cut into my wrists. And it wasn’t ok. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. So I called a friend, and then I called my mom per my friend’s instruction, then my mom came home from work and we called my insurance company. Then we went to the hospital. It was nerve wracking. Going up to the front desk and saying you want to be screened to see if you need to be checked in, filling out paperwork, telling the nurse that you can no longer be trusted with your own safety, knowing that there is a possibility you wont be able to leave depending on what you say. Then they have you sign at the dotted line and they take you back behind locked doors and you kiss your loved ones goodbye. At the nurses station the make you strip down to your chonies and they check your body for bruises and scars. Then they take your shoelaces away and give you a pair of hospital socks. Then you wait. You wait for things to start making sense again. You wait for someone to come and give you some type of pharmecudical, you wait for your blood pressure to be taken. You just wait.
It was pretty frightening the first night. I mean most of the people in there have much more severe outward representations of their mental illnesses than I do. For example, there was one lady who had actually stabbed herself through the heart several times. I mean like taking the knife and actually pushing all the way in, several times. Another girl had been molested and raped by her grandfather from time that she was three until she was seventeen. She was a cutter and a bulimic, her arms and her legs were basically scar tissue and the word failure was carved into her shin. Some of them were looking at me like why the heck was I there, and maybe I should just go home to my mommy. So it was hard to fit in at first, and trust me, you don’t want to be the odd man out at a mental hospital… its already bad enough that you cant talk to or see anybody you know… you don’t really want to sit alone at lunch too. Or at least I don’t.
Group therapy was challenging (I have many funny anecdotes if you ever want to hear any), I talked to like four doctors and day and had to somehow adjust to the severe side effects of my new medication. It was interesting. Its hard to even describe my experiences there because it was so different from anything else. It was outside of the normal beat of life, my only responsibility was to my own mental health, literally every other concern was taken care of for me. I needed it, really bad. As scary and as difficult as it was, I just couldn’t handle life anymore. There were nice nurses and mean ones, good days and bad ones. I led a prayer group, had the opportunity to pray over a couple of people and share the Word with them. I had people coming up to me and asking me questions about the Lord. I think I even caught the nurses’ attention, they were surprised to see our prayer requests written up on the whiteboard. I stayed for four days.
When I was released my psychiatrist told me to be careful, that the first week after being released from the hospital is when most people successfully commit suicide, that if I was having any suicidal ideations to seek emergency care. And it was a very hard week. My medication was making it difficult for me to even chew my food, I had to do everything slowly and methodically and with great care not to overload myself. I was exhausted and had killer stomach aches and a fogginess of mind. This last Friday marked the one week point and it is true what the doctor said. I was full of suicidal ideations. I wanted to drive my car off the road several times late at night. I spent a good half hour in the booze aisle contemplating what it would be like to drink my sorrows away. I scratched up my arm with my fingernails to see if I could have the cojones to draw blood. So if I haven’t been staying in contact… I am sorry. I am my own little irrational world right now, fighting for survival. I need time. Time for the meds to kick in and time to try to finish my classes and keep my job. Time to try to stay afloat.
This weekend things have taken an unexpected turn for the worse. The gradual improvement of my health has slowed to a stop, and I fear it is even reversing direction. If I haven't returned your phone calls, your comments, or your emails, at least now you know why. I am not here to get them. I have gone away. To quote one of my very favorite movies...
"Naomi? Naomi is not here. There is no Naomi. Naomi is disappeared."
It all started in the last week of March, consequently the first week in which I had been able to connect with a lot of my old good friends. Aruna was in town… and we got to spend a lot of fun time together. We hung out at Ben’s house and Jonathan was hilarious, Joe was sexy, Nu was boisterous, and Christine was kind and warm. We made a movie and then we all went to the movies and played halo at Joe’s. I spent some time talking to both Nu and Brandon in the car and it was good, refreshing you could say, a nice cool stream flowing through the loneliness that has been my life for the past few months. But for some reason… It just made something click inside of me. It brought back all those memories I had been trying to ignore. For the last few months I had stopped crying… stopped mourning over the loss of friendships, closeness, warmth, joy. I had just accepted it as a part of who I was and I just lived in miserableness as an unchangeable reality, not even noticing that I had transformed to a sad, hurting person, to a fundamentally sick one.
You have got to understand something, this has been a long hard journey for me and I have looked up one road and down another for healing, for enlightenment, for change. But as many times as I have tried, I have failed, and every single time I get back on my feet I fall even farther down. Everything I have done for the past two years has been a struggle to me, even down to waking up in the morning or making myself something to eat. Struggle, difficulty, and pain are the air I breathe and to tell you the truth I can’t figure out why. I don’t understand why. Well I know “why”, it’s because I am sick. Its because my synapses are fried and my brain isn’t working right. Its because my genetic make-up, because every single person that I have ever met or just heard of on both sides of my family have been diagnosed with some form of mental illness, mostly depression but some more severe. One being my own biological father who has Borderline Multiple Personality Disorder, depression, and anxiety. I’ve inherited this illness. But the question I ask of the Lord is why. Why do you want me to be this way? Why have you left me like this when I have tried so hard, fought so hard, loved so hard? What else is it that you want me to do? Who else is it that you want me to be? What else do you want me to say? Why can’t I be healed?
But back to the story. So I sunk low… real low… lower even then when I actually tried to commit suicide… heck I didn’t even know it was possible to go lower than that. It was like all the pain of the last few months decided to let itself lose on my psyche in one weekend… and eventually I realized that I no longer had control of my own mind, that I was slipping in and out of rational thought. I had violent uncontrollable images dancing in my head and some very strong urges to do something violent to myself. I could see myself hanging from ceiling rafters or laying dead in the bathtub with long lines cut into my wrists. And it wasn’t ok. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. So I called a friend, and then I called my mom per my friend’s instruction, then my mom came home from work and we called my insurance company. Then we went to the hospital. It was nerve wracking. Going up to the front desk and saying you want to be screened to see if you need to be checked in, filling out paperwork, telling the nurse that you can no longer be trusted with your own safety, knowing that there is a possibility you wont be able to leave depending on what you say. Then they have you sign at the dotted line and they take you back behind locked doors and you kiss your loved ones goodbye. At the nurses station the make you strip down to your chonies and they check your body for bruises and scars. Then they take your shoelaces away and give you a pair of hospital socks. Then you wait. You wait for things to start making sense again. You wait for someone to come and give you some type of pharmecudical, you wait for your blood pressure to be taken. You just wait.
It was pretty frightening the first night. I mean most of the people in there have much more severe outward representations of their mental illnesses than I do. For example, there was one lady who had actually stabbed herself through the heart several times. I mean like taking the knife and actually pushing all the way in, several times. Another girl had been molested and raped by her grandfather from time that she was three until she was seventeen. She was a cutter and a bulimic, her arms and her legs were basically scar tissue and the word failure was carved into her shin. Some of them were looking at me like why the heck was I there, and maybe I should just go home to my mommy. So it was hard to fit in at first, and trust me, you don’t want to be the odd man out at a mental hospital… its already bad enough that you cant talk to or see anybody you know… you don’t really want to sit alone at lunch too. Or at least I don’t.
Group therapy was challenging (I have many funny anecdotes if you ever want to hear any), I talked to like four doctors and day and had to somehow adjust to the severe side effects of my new medication. It was interesting. Its hard to even describe my experiences there because it was so different from anything else. It was outside of the normal beat of life, my only responsibility was to my own mental health, literally every other concern was taken care of for me. I needed it, really bad. As scary and as difficult as it was, I just couldn’t handle life anymore. There were nice nurses and mean ones, good days and bad ones. I led a prayer group, had the opportunity to pray over a couple of people and share the Word with them. I had people coming up to me and asking me questions about the Lord. I think I even caught the nurses’ attention, they were surprised to see our prayer requests written up on the whiteboard. I stayed for four days.
When I was released my psychiatrist told me to be careful, that the first week after being released from the hospital is when most people successfully commit suicide, that if I was having any suicidal ideations to seek emergency care. And it was a very hard week. My medication was making it difficult for me to even chew my food, I had to do everything slowly and methodically and with great care not to overload myself. I was exhausted and had killer stomach aches and a fogginess of mind. This last Friday marked the one week point and it is true what the doctor said. I was full of suicidal ideations. I wanted to drive my car off the road several times late at night. I spent a good half hour in the booze aisle contemplating what it would be like to drink my sorrows away. I scratched up my arm with my fingernails to see if I could have the cojones to draw blood. So if I haven’t been staying in contact… I am sorry. I am my own little irrational world right now, fighting for survival. I need time. Time for the meds to kick in and time to try to finish my classes and keep my job. Time to try to stay afloat.
This weekend things have taken an unexpected turn for the worse. The gradual improvement of my health has slowed to a stop, and I fear it is even reversing direction. If I haven't returned your phone calls, your comments, or your emails, at least now you know why. I am not here to get them. I have gone away. To quote one of my very favorite movies...
"Naomi? Naomi is not here. There is no Naomi. Naomi is disappeared."
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Dear "friend", I am mad.
I am so angry. you see... i have come to a realization... i have found a small bit of insight in to why i get so burned out. you see... i have a whole lot of people that are counting on me showing up in their lives but none who are willing to take the time in the effort to show up in mine. and im FURIOUS!! i get to hang out with you because i drive you somewhere, help you with your homework or your job, or just make the effort to stop by your place. i get to hang out with you because im involved in the lives of your whole family and i try to encourage you when you are down and i go to you where you are. i eat lunch with you where you are. and im sick of it. because when was the last time you came to my house? when was the last time you said... hmmm... i wonder if angela needs some encouragement let me call her up and ask her how her day is going? what does angela need from me? what is my part of this relationship? when was the last time you ate dinner with my family? all i need is someone to show me some stinkin tlc! but no one even takes the time to think about it. well thanks for everything peeps... you're freaking sucking me dry.
angela
*please note: i was just released from a psychiatric hospital yesterday. i am feeling kind of angry right now because no one really took the time to visit me, no one sent me a get well card, and most certainly no one has given me a hug. and there were plenty of people who knew i was there. but i guess pleasantries are wasted on me, i am just fine the way i am right? no need to go out of your way. i am upset because i am hurting so bad. i am upset because i am sick out of my mind right now and i can barely move... and.... and it just comes down to this; if i stopped reaching out to you, you would be angry at first, and then you would accept that i was gone. aint nobody is gonna fight for me. they always let me make the first move.
**please also note: this "letter" is not meant for everyone, so upon reading please dont assume automatically that it is meant towards you. because then you might be someone that i am not infact mad at thinking that i am mad at you, which would not be true.
***one more note: but if you are sitting there reading this... and you feel as if you are one of "those" people... i am sorry. i wanted to be your friend, i wanted to know who you are, i wanted to love you and care for you but i cant anymore. i am just too sick.
for now,
angela
angela
*please note: i was just released from a psychiatric hospital yesterday. i am feeling kind of angry right now because no one really took the time to visit me, no one sent me a get well card, and most certainly no one has given me a hug. and there were plenty of people who knew i was there. but i guess pleasantries are wasted on me, i am just fine the way i am right? no need to go out of your way. i am upset because i am hurting so bad. i am upset because i am sick out of my mind right now and i can barely move... and.... and it just comes down to this; if i stopped reaching out to you, you would be angry at first, and then you would accept that i was gone. aint nobody is gonna fight for me. they always let me make the first move.
**please also note: this "letter" is not meant for everyone, so upon reading please dont assume automatically that it is meant towards you. because then you might be someone that i am not infact mad at thinking that i am mad at you, which would not be true.
***one more note: but if you are sitting there reading this... and you feel as if you are one of "those" people... i am sorry. i wanted to be your friend, i wanted to know who you are, i wanted to love you and care for you but i cant anymore. i am just too sick.
for now,
angela
Saturday, March 29, 2008
princess
inside of me i have always wanted to be a princess. you know a beautiful maiden who runs around in a feild full of flowers and sings with the birds. full of sweetness and purity and beauty. now, i am under the recognization that every little girl just like myself probably dreams for the same thing. but not everyone can be princesses can they? i dont know. i do know on the other hand, that a princess is exactly what i am not. i am all jagged around the edges and my voice cracks at the high notes and there are definately no fields of flowers anywhere near me. but with that understanding in mind... i cant decide what to do. do i let go of the dream, do i realize that its all a fairy tale and wake up to the real world? or do i continue to live under the belief that i might someday magically become the princess i wish to be? what is the real world?
i have come to know and expect that nothing truly good can happen to me or my family. thats just how it has been. i go to sleep one night and the next morning i wake up to find chaos and tears and tragedy. my mother has been beaten, abused, demeaned, manipulated, torn down by so many men, now she is married for the fourth time and i just couldnt see how it could be truly good. i mean how sad is that that i dont even believe in true love anymore? but i am starting to see some really good stuff coming out of their marriage and it almost frightens me. it challenges the way i think. is it really possible that something could be good and true and not a lie, not a pleasant mask that hide a monster of deception and theivery? everyday i realize that i am even more messed up than i thought i was. today i discovered that i do not believe in love, good things, happiness, and i most certainly do not believe that anyone could love me. i look down at myself and all i see is ugliness, distortion, selfishness, and pride. who taught me that? who made me look at myself that way?
the other thing i know about princess, is that even through years of being locked up in a tower, even through years of working and slaving for her evil stepmother, a princess never gives up hope, never gives up on her dreams. she always knows in her heart that her prince will come.
but on the issue of my hope, on the issue of my dreams, even the Lord Almighty has been silent. when i ask the ceiling if i am beautiful, there is no reply. there is no reply from anyone. at the end of the day i feel like maybe there is just nobody out there who thinks i am worth the pursuit, worth the trouble. today i saw myself in so many revealing lights, and i can find no reason or justification within my being to believe i am anything other than a experiment in dreamers gone wrong, and i am just simply going to have to accept that there is no fairy tale waiting for me on the other side of this mess. to me, to me that almost means there is nothing worth living for. and that may sound totally stupid to you because maybe you dont give a damn about princess and flowers and singing. but i do. this is who i am. and you can go live in your real world while i die in mine.
i have come to know and expect that nothing truly good can happen to me or my family. thats just how it has been. i go to sleep one night and the next morning i wake up to find chaos and tears and tragedy. my mother has been beaten, abused, demeaned, manipulated, torn down by so many men, now she is married for the fourth time and i just couldnt see how it could be truly good. i mean how sad is that that i dont even believe in true love anymore? but i am starting to see some really good stuff coming out of their marriage and it almost frightens me. it challenges the way i think. is it really possible that something could be good and true and not a lie, not a pleasant mask that hide a monster of deception and theivery? everyday i realize that i am even more messed up than i thought i was. today i discovered that i do not believe in love, good things, happiness, and i most certainly do not believe that anyone could love me. i look down at myself and all i see is ugliness, distortion, selfishness, and pride. who taught me that? who made me look at myself that way?
the other thing i know about princess, is that even through years of being locked up in a tower, even through years of working and slaving for her evil stepmother, a princess never gives up hope, never gives up on her dreams. she always knows in her heart that her prince will come.
but on the issue of my hope, on the issue of my dreams, even the Lord Almighty has been silent. when i ask the ceiling if i am beautiful, there is no reply. there is no reply from anyone. at the end of the day i feel like maybe there is just nobody out there who thinks i am worth the pursuit, worth the trouble. today i saw myself in so many revealing lights, and i can find no reason or justification within my being to believe i am anything other than a experiment in dreamers gone wrong, and i am just simply going to have to accept that there is no fairy tale waiting for me on the other side of this mess. to me, to me that almost means there is nothing worth living for. and that may sound totally stupid to you because maybe you dont give a damn about princess and flowers and singing. but i do. this is who i am. and you can go live in your real world while i die in mine.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
i watched i am legend tonight. it was not that good for me because a lot of the movie was centered around robert neville's intense loneliness. when he was in the video store saying hello to the manequin after his dog died... and he started crying and begging the manequin to say hello back... man that hit me right in the heart. there are points when i really feel like that. like i am sitting in my car and i am just crying and i just want to hear from someone anyone i just want someone to say hello back. loneliness... i think it must be the deepest rooted problem of my soul because i can never stop thinking about it... i am more lonely around friends sometime then i am when i am just sitting by myself. there is something inside of me that is just so untouched, so unreached, so unloved. i feel like i havent been touched in years. i miss hugs, shoulders to cry on, honestly caring and compassionate physical representations of affection. i miss kisses. as revealing as that is to say on a post... its absolutely true. i miss protective arms. although i dont really know how i can miss those things because ive only really tasted and seen quickly passing shadows of the real things. so maybe missing isnt the right word, maybe its just more of a longing for things i have never known.
im am sure even as i am writing this that there are multitudes of people out there who are longing for the same things. there is probably another girl about my age very near by sitting at her computer and imaging strong and warm arms just coming around her and saying everything is going to be ok. sometimes that is how i get through my day. imagination.
im am sure even as i am writing this that there are multitudes of people out there who are longing for the same things. there is probably another girl about my age very near by sitting at her computer and imaging strong and warm arms just coming around her and saying everything is going to be ok. sometimes that is how i get through my day. imagination.
i just got finished looking at pictures of chistopher daniel shabaglian! so cute. i mean probably the cutest little baby boy ive ever seen. look at him there with his daddy! i have a picture like that with my daddy too.its hard when others peoples joy brings back memories of your pain. it makes me want to say to myself, "thats dumb, cant you just be happy for someone for once and stop thinking about yourself?" and i try to, i really do. i am just browsing along smiling at all the wonderfully cute pictures and thinking happy thoughts when WHAM! its like someone hit me in the gut and all the sudden i have a tight feeling in my chest. when i saw this picture... it just took me down. the reason for that is that the picture that i had like this with my dad was the one thing that made me question all these years whether or not he really did love me. through the hard times, through a lot of broken promises and emotional abuse i just looked at that picture and told myself there was a reason to hold on to hope. but i stopped believing that a couple of years ago. and when i see in jon's eyes that he truly loves christopher and he is never going to walk away from that love it causes me to mourn for love my father walked away from.
nevertheless, he is the cutest baby ever.
angela
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
self-mutilation and dead flowers
there is no amount of pain that i can cause myself that will make this go away. it doesnt make any sense i know... but its just this growing desire to wrench a corkscrew through my heart... to cut deeper and deeper and deeper... it somehow feels like if i hurt myself then all horribleness will go away? CANT YOU SEE THATS WHAT I HAVE BEEN DOING THIS WHOLE TIME? i am digging deeper and deeper scrubbing it away but i cant get it off me and in the process i am losing my mind, my dignity, and my friends. LOOK AT ME! i am a beast, i cant control my thoughts, emotions, one day i am fine the next i am buried in the lowliest of pits. once i think i cant get any lower i find myself lower still and no matter what i do i cannot rid the earth of the wretchedness that is my instability, my inconsistancy, my unfaithfulness. LOOK AWAY FROM ME! for i cannot bear for you to see the reality of my soul. nothing is hidden to you... all of my secrets are laid bare before everyone, i never lied about how awesome i was or pretended that i had it all together. its not a game to me, this is real. its not a want for me, its a need. its a matter of life or death. there is no playing around for me, there is no time just to live carelessly and shout out peace when there is none. there is no peace within my frame, there is only harlotry, confusion, loneliness, and hurt. i multilate myself to make myself feel better. my heart is seeped in sickness and disease. this is a poem i wrote a few months ago... just recently i realized that it is about myself:
Lemon Juice
Tiny wine bottle cork screws behind the lemon bar.
She shrinks beneath the pool table and listens to rocks
roll down the hills. Sliding, peeling, blood like pomegranate
juice oozes down her arm unto the imported Italian
grapevine floor rug. Above the game continues on as
red striped universes fall into leather netted black holes.
And heart slows with less and less to beat about
as the white peach hookah smoke seductively wraps
itself around her self-abasing cherry lips. She lies
facedown inside of her green felt ceiling world and
finds herself looking at an imported pair of leather
soled shoes with the subway map etched on the bottom.
With the one contact she has left in her summer’s afternoon
hazelnut eyes she squints and seeks out her destination.
Run away, Lilian. Run away to the pineapple beaches and
orange grove valleys. Now the pomegranate juice seeps
out of her current spacial confines and the corkscrew winds
itself deeper into her wrist like a music box turn key finding
its ways to faster melodies. In her last few minutes of passion
fruit pleasure she remembers the time she found
tiny wine bottle cork screws behind the lemon bar.
i dont just talk about self-multilation and suicide to get attention. there was a time where i was seriously questioning if i was just making all this up because im so lonely. but now, now that i know that suicide is no longer an option, now that my heart has explored that road and has decided that it leads no where, i thought that the thoughts and images of killing myself would be gone. but they are not. do you know what the first thing i saw in my minds eye this morning was? a picture, an image, of a razor making a vertical cut all the way down the inside of my arm to my wrist and then me reaching my hand inside the cut and pulling the skin off my arm. ITS INSIDE OF ME. when i wake up, when i go to sleep, and in the middle of the afternoon. i see flashes of myself hanging from the bar in my closest... i picture blood running from a neat straight line on my arm. if i let this devil in then i have no idea how to get him out. you can see it in my poetry even. the enemy is seriously trying to get to me. why? i have no influence, no power, no significant redeeming qualities, i just dont get it. i am just a mess of a person in a mess of a world. what is happening? why is this happening? i feel like im stuck in a horror movie.
sadly its the second best poem i have ever written. the best poem was coincidentally also about someone killing themselves. its seems like the only value i have is in that which pertains to darkness, and when representing beauty the only reference point i have is sorrow. i couldnt paint a picture of a flower if i wanted to. a dead flower on the other hand... now i can do that. what a pleasant realization to come to.
angela
Lemon Juice
Tiny wine bottle cork screws behind the lemon bar.
She shrinks beneath the pool table and listens to rocks
roll down the hills. Sliding, peeling, blood like pomegranate
juice oozes down her arm unto the imported Italian
grapevine floor rug. Above the game continues on as
red striped universes fall into leather netted black holes.
And heart slows with less and less to beat about
as the white peach hookah smoke seductively wraps
itself around her self-abasing cherry lips. She lies
facedown inside of her green felt ceiling world and
finds herself looking at an imported pair of leather
soled shoes with the subway map etched on the bottom.
With the one contact she has left in her summer’s afternoon
hazelnut eyes she squints and seeks out her destination.
Run away, Lilian. Run away to the pineapple beaches and
orange grove valleys. Now the pomegranate juice seeps
out of her current spacial confines and the corkscrew winds
itself deeper into her wrist like a music box turn key finding
its ways to faster melodies. In her last few minutes of passion
fruit pleasure she remembers the time she found
tiny wine bottle cork screws behind the lemon bar.
i dont just talk about self-multilation and suicide to get attention. there was a time where i was seriously questioning if i was just making all this up because im so lonely. but now, now that i know that suicide is no longer an option, now that my heart has explored that road and has decided that it leads no where, i thought that the thoughts and images of killing myself would be gone. but they are not. do you know what the first thing i saw in my minds eye this morning was? a picture, an image, of a razor making a vertical cut all the way down the inside of my arm to my wrist and then me reaching my hand inside the cut and pulling the skin off my arm. ITS INSIDE OF ME. when i wake up, when i go to sleep, and in the middle of the afternoon. i see flashes of myself hanging from the bar in my closest... i picture blood running from a neat straight line on my arm. if i let this devil in then i have no idea how to get him out. you can see it in my poetry even. the enemy is seriously trying to get to me. why? i have no influence, no power, no significant redeeming qualities, i just dont get it. i am just a mess of a person in a mess of a world. what is happening? why is this happening? i feel like im stuck in a horror movie.
sadly its the second best poem i have ever written. the best poem was coincidentally also about someone killing themselves. its seems like the only value i have is in that which pertains to darkness, and when representing beauty the only reference point i have is sorrow. i couldnt paint a picture of a flower if i wanted to. a dead flower on the other hand... now i can do that. what a pleasant realization to come to.
angela
dead trees by still water
hey its me again. have you noticed how my posts have been incessant lately? i just cant stop. i am just crawling out of my skin... like i have cabin fever of the soul. my thoughts, ideas, feelings, desires, they just need to get out of me. i cant explain it but i have never experienced such a drought of people to talk to. i am just totally lost as of what to do. sometimes i am just seriously grieving, other times i am just ok, other times i am rejoicing in the Lord and His providence. Lord please help me. please just send me an angel from heaven like in touched by an angel where they were so nice and sweet and glowy. i keep feeling like i want to tell the Lord, " Lord i cant do this, this is not the life for me." but at the same time i dont because i have a persistant recognition that i really have no idea what is best for me in comparison to the Lord's understanding of my needs, wants, and desires. but i do seriously question how long it can go on like this.... and how long it will. is my family next? is God's purpose in this time to strip me of everything i hold dear until literally all i have is Him? i have a hard time understanding that. i have a hard why God would not want me to have friends and family. i dont know what to believe about His character or His way of doing things. there is so much in the bible... i cant seem to find a clear answer. there could be so many reasons this is happening... it could be anyone of a lot of things He commands me to do. Obedience, fear of the Lord, humility, worship, honor. where do i even start to figure out what he wants me to in this particular situation. i dont know.
angela
*edit: p.s. its like i am screaming with my words. screaming screaming screaming in forest full of dead trees and still water.
angela
*edit: p.s. its like i am screaming with my words. screaming screaming screaming in forest full of dead trees and still water.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
you know all the stuff i say in these blogs is just stuff i wish i could say in person but i cant. its the stuff that is going on in my head when everyone is laughing at a funny joke and i just have a quiet look on my face. i may seem pretty smart, but the truth is sometimes i really cant figure out how to say the things i want to say and that is how they end up here. because i have got to get those things out of me and there is no other way but through art. blogging for me is art, its word painting. its adjectives and nouns and verbs all lined up to form some representation of an idea, whether it be abstract or concrete.
another somewhat suprising reality about my blogging habits, is that i will often tell you, the reader, things about myself simply because i wish that you would act upon that knowledge. when i tell you how i think you are wonderland, its because i really wish you thought i was a wonderland. you probably dont give a heck if i think you are a "treasure" or a "myseterious gift". and why would you? it is likely that you, the reader, dont care. so it just ends up being selfishness rather than self expression. its treating others how you want to be treated as a means to an end.
pray for me though. please please please pray for me. please pray that god would send me a best friend, or that He would be mine in a way that i can really get it.
thank you.
angela
another somewhat suprising reality about my blogging habits, is that i will often tell you, the reader, things about myself simply because i wish that you would act upon that knowledge. when i tell you how i think you are wonderland, its because i really wish you thought i was a wonderland. you probably dont give a heck if i think you are a "treasure" or a "myseterious gift". and why would you? it is likely that you, the reader, dont care. so it just ends up being selfishness rather than self expression. its treating others how you want to be treated as a means to an end.
pray for me though. please please please pray for me. please pray that god would send me a best friend, or that He would be mine in a way that i can really get it.
thank you.
angela
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
it has never really been that i have felt like i am writing to no one at all.
my brain really doesnt have the concept of "no one". i cannot exist by myself, and therefore have never even cotemplated singular existance. and even as i have rambled on in my blogs during the years... i have always felt like there was someone out there to read them. even if that person didnt exist right now... someday someone would come along and they would be like... oh how interesting... and what i said would matter to them and they would want to ask questions and know more. it never even mattered to me that my words might be stored in a time capsule for years until they mattered to someone else. words ferment with time, like wine and cheese, the longer they are left alone the richer and deeper they taste.
but tonight, i kind of do feel like that. the belief in a future historian is like a little spark in my soul that wont quite be extinguished with the lack of a present obeserver, but everyday it gets a little smaller. i never quite realized how much i loved to be asked questions until i stopped being asked them. i never quite appriciated how good it feels for someone to say to you "how are you doing today?". it is totally the Lord that He has kept a friend in my life who is willing to make the effort and take the time to ask me stuff like that. cause without that i really dont know where i would be.
have you ever been excited and curious about the contents of someones heart? like a walk through their personallity, their hopes and dreams, their fears and desires, their thoughts and ideas, is like an adventure through a glorious and overflowing garden. just like i think its so cool to know that in ancient egypt, anytime they drew a human being it was kept to the exact same scale as every other drawing of a human being in egypt for four thousand years. can you imagine? i mean just imagine. if every representation of a human being you saw in movies, tv, paintings, pictures, look just like... brad pitt. for the next four thousand years the only image that is used to represent humans is brad pitt. that is really very interesting to think about. but back to my point, all i was saying is that just like i get excited about that, i get excited about you. you are a wonderland, so to speak. a treasure. a mysterious gift.
so yeah, tired. randomness complete.
angela
p.s. to that future historian who is reading this, thanks for reading and thinking. you are a warm gooey substance in my soul. a warm sticky bun on a cold winter morning. thank you.
my brain really doesnt have the concept of "no one". i cannot exist by myself, and therefore have never even cotemplated singular existance. and even as i have rambled on in my blogs during the years... i have always felt like there was someone out there to read them. even if that person didnt exist right now... someday someone would come along and they would be like... oh how interesting... and what i said would matter to them and they would want to ask questions and know more. it never even mattered to me that my words might be stored in a time capsule for years until they mattered to someone else. words ferment with time, like wine and cheese, the longer they are left alone the richer and deeper they taste.
but tonight, i kind of do feel like that. the belief in a future historian is like a little spark in my soul that wont quite be extinguished with the lack of a present obeserver, but everyday it gets a little smaller. i never quite realized how much i loved to be asked questions until i stopped being asked them. i never quite appriciated how good it feels for someone to say to you "how are you doing today?". it is totally the Lord that He has kept a friend in my life who is willing to make the effort and take the time to ask me stuff like that. cause without that i really dont know where i would be.
have you ever been excited and curious about the contents of someones heart? like a walk through their personallity, their hopes and dreams, their fears and desires, their thoughts and ideas, is like an adventure through a glorious and overflowing garden. just like i think its so cool to know that in ancient egypt, anytime they drew a human being it was kept to the exact same scale as every other drawing of a human being in egypt for four thousand years. can you imagine? i mean just imagine. if every representation of a human being you saw in movies, tv, paintings, pictures, look just like... brad pitt. for the next four thousand years the only image that is used to represent humans is brad pitt. that is really very interesting to think about. but back to my point, all i was saying is that just like i get excited about that, i get excited about you. you are a wonderland, so to speak. a treasure. a mysterious gift.
so yeah, tired. randomness complete.
angela
p.s. to that future historian who is reading this, thanks for reading and thinking. you are a warm gooey substance in my soul. a warm sticky bun on a cold winter morning. thank you.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
letter to a future historian, the story of the present
you know what i have realized? I have kind of settled into my loneliness. after all the crying and all the agonizing and all the just plain wretched empty nights i have just kind of got used to it. i mean right now... i am just as lonely as i was before, but im not sobbing my eyes out, im not huddled on the floor in a heap of despair, im not tearing at my clothing or covering myself with ashes. i am just sitting here watching my abc.com in the middle of the night contemplating how loneliness is no longer a plague upon my everyday life, it has now just become a part of who i am. its not a sickness anymore, its more just like a missing limb, ive learn to walk without it. i dont know if this is a good thing or a bad thing. i think mostly bad though. deep deep down inside it feels worse, even though the symtoms dont rise to the surface. but if i were to sit down and think about it, as i am doing now, i realize that all i really really want is someone to come up and talk to me. someone to say "hey... who are you? i really want to know, tell me more. what are your dreams?" "oh really, thats very interesting. and what about this? and that?" i feel like i am stuck in a time box. i feel like i am stuck in a reality that will not change no matter what i do.
i used to kind of wonder if maybe i was sick or something. if maybe some of my feelings/symptoms could be explained by an involuntary illness contracted through some outside malicious force, i.e. the devil or genetic inheiritance. everyday it is becoming more and more apparent that i am not in control of these feelings, or the loneliness that creeps back in the second i take my eyes off the metaphorical emotional wall. thats the whole reason i even write this dumb blog, is i just want to talk to someone so bad. its sounds so lame and i know i have said it a hundred times but i am just so dang lonely. and i guess it feels a little better to know that at least there is a record of this loneliness so that when something happens to me someone out there will be able to find out why. when someone comes along who cares enough to ask the question the answer will already be there for them, the words i mean to say but never can will be written in virtual stone.
i used to kind of wonder if maybe i was sick or something. if maybe some of my feelings/symptoms could be explained by an involuntary illness contracted through some outside malicious force, i.e. the devil or genetic inheiritance. everyday it is becoming more and more apparent that i am not in control of these feelings, or the loneliness that creeps back in the second i take my eyes off the metaphorical emotional wall. thats the whole reason i even write this dumb blog, is i just want to talk to someone so bad. its sounds so lame and i know i have said it a hundred times but i am just so dang lonely. and i guess it feels a little better to know that at least there is a record of this loneliness so that when something happens to me someone out there will be able to find out why. when someone comes along who cares enough to ask the question the answer will already be there for them, the words i mean to say but never can will be written in virtual stone.
Monday, February 18, 2008
post number 24
you know how when you were little and you would get freaked out by the shadows and you would turn the light on and it would all go away. well that is how i used to feel about the darkness inside of me. as hard as it was and as low as it got it still went away sometimes... sometimes longer than others. still sunshine peeked through the rainclouds. and maybe it still is? i dont know maybe everything is still ok i am just feeling so crazy right now. have you ever been watching a scary movie and you get to like a really demented part and you feel your mind being twisted and your heart being manipulated in small, dark, and twisty shapes and its just... its just like i feel right now. like the part in the movie where the innocent slightly more modest brunette gets brutally murdered with some hook like device and the blond gets away. ok maybe not like that. something more demented. more dark, less bloody. why am i so sick?
Sunday, February 10, 2008
suicide
there are many different therories and beliefs pertaining to the act of suicide. some believe it is the most selfish act a person can commit... others see it as a cop-out. today i was seriously considering it... i even went so far as to purchase a bottle of aspirin (which i found out later doesnt actually work... it only burns a hole in your stomach) i was sitting in my car with the bottle open and i tried like four times to bring it to my lips and i couldnt. so as i have had a more up close and personal experience with suicide... i have developed some of my own opinions about it... all of the speculatory.
1. It must be selfishness... or at least to an extent. you cant just have compassion on the hurting person without recognize that the world would not be better off if even of the lowliest of peoples were dead. even if it were true that i was a horrible horrible stupid and horrible person... because God is who he says he is... and the holy spirit resides within me... the world is better off with my feeble and broken light then they are without it. does this apply to those who have not accepted Jesus? i dont know. all i can say that is for myself... i would be completly ignoring biblical truth to be saying that the world would be better off without me.
but...
2. not all the motives for suicide... or at least in my case... are selfish. i believe that the person who has been convinced to die has fallen under the greatest form of deception from the enemy. death is the culmination of his master plan, his main goal, the big kahuna of deception. he wants us to die. he wants me to die. and he is going to do everything he can to make that happen. so part of me would like to have a partial excuse for my radical selfish behavior... part of me would like to tell you that i am really trying but the enemy is winning... part of me would like you to tell me that its all going to be ok... that you are not mad at me and you love me and its not all my fault. but i dont really know if that is true. i want to believe its true... but i dont know.
3. suicidal people are desperate. desperate enough to override the basic human need for survival and injure themselves. its like the whole peeing your pants thing. if you are sitting on a couch and someone says they will give you 50 bucks to pee your pants there is a likelihood that you wont actually be able to do it. there has to be a desperateness that overrides logic and our instinct to protect ourselves from harm or embarrasment. today i totally emabarresed myself. i looked absolutely ridicolous in front of the people i love because i was so desperate. because i was so desperate to escape the pain and the nightmares and the things that haunted me when i was alone. i was so desperate to escape the lies and the image of myself that was being painted on the wall of my heart. and i think i really hurt my friends by doing that and i regret it. i didnt want to hurt them, i just didnt want to hurt anymore. but when you are desperate you dont really stop to think about other people... you just go crazy and do whatever you have got to do to get where you are desperate to be.
I once had a friend who committed suicide. she had called out to me for help multiple times, and i was kind to her, but in the end she gave up. maybe she didnt understand that there was hope, she didnt know about love, maybe no one had ever truly loved her. thats how i started to feel very recently... when i realized the relationship i had had with my mother was coming to an end. she was the only one that loved me for all these years... through multiple fathers and friends who had left me in the dust. so when i finally realized that i cant count on her anymore... it all came crashing down. it was because of her that i believed love would prevail... that there were still people out there who would love you back if you loved them. but then... all of the sudden i wasnt so sure. and it was too much for me i guess. but im glad i got that off my chest. im glad i know that that isnt an option anymore. im sorry that i hurt my friends though. you have no idea... under all this pain is someone that loves you so much, maybe even more than you know. all i have ever wanted to do was give you a gift worthy of how awesome you are to me... but i never could. now i feel that all i have done is try to take away. especially you nicole... i am never going to be able to make it up to you but i want you to know that i am so sorry. you will probably never read this but i know that you were right in everything you said, and i am so sorry that i even went down that road. i dont know what i was thinking. i was so scared and wrong.
maybe the humblest people are the ones who dare to believe that they are beautiful... maybe the humblest are the ones who know they matter. maybe the root of all my problems is a pridefullness that runs deeper than mosts.
angela
p.s. i cannot find my bible. please if you are reading this and you see it, let me know. or if you do not know where it is... please pray for the funds for the purchase of a new bible. i am thinking this time around i will buy a NASB.
1. It must be selfishness... or at least to an extent. you cant just have compassion on the hurting person without recognize that the world would not be better off if even of the lowliest of peoples were dead. even if it were true that i was a horrible horrible stupid and horrible person... because God is who he says he is... and the holy spirit resides within me... the world is better off with my feeble and broken light then they are without it. does this apply to those who have not accepted Jesus? i dont know. all i can say that is for myself... i would be completly ignoring biblical truth to be saying that the world would be better off without me.
but...
2. not all the motives for suicide... or at least in my case... are selfish. i believe that the person who has been convinced to die has fallen under the greatest form of deception from the enemy. death is the culmination of his master plan, his main goal, the big kahuna of deception. he wants us to die. he wants me to die. and he is going to do everything he can to make that happen. so part of me would like to have a partial excuse for my radical selfish behavior... part of me would like to tell you that i am really trying but the enemy is winning... part of me would like you to tell me that its all going to be ok... that you are not mad at me and you love me and its not all my fault. but i dont really know if that is true. i want to believe its true... but i dont know.
3. suicidal people are desperate. desperate enough to override the basic human need for survival and injure themselves. its like the whole peeing your pants thing. if you are sitting on a couch and someone says they will give you 50 bucks to pee your pants there is a likelihood that you wont actually be able to do it. there has to be a desperateness that overrides logic and our instinct to protect ourselves from harm or embarrasment. today i totally emabarresed myself. i looked absolutely ridicolous in front of the people i love because i was so desperate. because i was so desperate to escape the pain and the nightmares and the things that haunted me when i was alone. i was so desperate to escape the lies and the image of myself that was being painted on the wall of my heart. and i think i really hurt my friends by doing that and i regret it. i didnt want to hurt them, i just didnt want to hurt anymore. but when you are desperate you dont really stop to think about other people... you just go crazy and do whatever you have got to do to get where you are desperate to be.
I once had a friend who committed suicide. she had called out to me for help multiple times, and i was kind to her, but in the end she gave up. maybe she didnt understand that there was hope, she didnt know about love, maybe no one had ever truly loved her. thats how i started to feel very recently... when i realized the relationship i had had with my mother was coming to an end. she was the only one that loved me for all these years... through multiple fathers and friends who had left me in the dust. so when i finally realized that i cant count on her anymore... it all came crashing down. it was because of her that i believed love would prevail... that there were still people out there who would love you back if you loved them. but then... all of the sudden i wasnt so sure. and it was too much for me i guess. but im glad i got that off my chest. im glad i know that that isnt an option anymore. im sorry that i hurt my friends though. you have no idea... under all this pain is someone that loves you so much, maybe even more than you know. all i have ever wanted to do was give you a gift worthy of how awesome you are to me... but i never could. now i feel that all i have done is try to take away. especially you nicole... i am never going to be able to make it up to you but i want you to know that i am so sorry. you will probably never read this but i know that you were right in everything you said, and i am so sorry that i even went down that road. i dont know what i was thinking. i was so scared and wrong.
maybe the humblest people are the ones who dare to believe that they are beautiful... maybe the humblest are the ones who know they matter. maybe the root of all my problems is a pridefullness that runs deeper than mosts.
angela
p.s. i cannot find my bible. please if you are reading this and you see it, let me know. or if you do not know where it is... please pray for the funds for the purchase of a new bible. i am thinking this time around i will buy a NASB.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
don't read this.
what a concept. maybe tonight... how do i make it go away... how do i make the thoughts and the pictures go away... where is there to run to? where is there a safe place?
i want to die. just let me die. just take me away now... just let me die. i know i sound stupid but i dont care... im never going to be able to fit in with you anyway. i just want to die now because i cant do this anymore, im not capapable. there is no "positive thinking" that is going to fix this problem. i am selfish, i dont care about the consequences and i obviously dont care about anyone else. but the reality is i just wish this would be over. i have no clue what the heck to do or where to turn and i just want it to be over. i cant do it. i know i sound stupid... so you dont have to tell me that.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Deep Sea Diving
i wonder if there is any clarity left to be found. i wonder if my message is more than just dissonance and jumbled words. if i am saying something that you cant understand, because the idea is too big, or the words too ambitious, i am the one with the problem, not you. i am the one that lacks wisdom, knowledge, faith. i was born in to the world to carry the beauty of the most high God, but rather i drag around garbage and leave some behind when i go away. it doesnt matter how much i love you, it doesnt matter if i sing my song over your soul, it doesnt matter if i lay at your feet word pictures or expressions of gratitude. there is a brokeness inside of me that doesnt get washed away when the rain falls or burned away when the fire roars. and there is a reality to the fact that i am only writing this to myself because it is by hearing too much that ears go deaf and it is the repetition of a story that causes it to lose its meaning. and mine has become utter nonsense. in a way i have kind of accepted it. i fought and fought for so long. "it matters! it hurts! it shouldnt be this way!" maybe it doesnt matter what should and shouldnt be, maybe i was wrong. maybe it doesnt hurt, maybe im an emotional hypochondriac. it doesnt matter how much i love you. i used to believe that nothing within me was hidden. that i was a treasure chest floating on top of an ocean, readily available to those who would only go out on the water. but now i know differently, i am deep, deep on the bottom of an ocean, where light does not reach. it requires strength enough to part the sea to discover the mystery of my inmost being. but what does all these lofty images mean anyway? nothing to me. for i am the smallest chest on the bottom of the deepest ocean, and my friends are the electric deep sea fishes and the occasional sunken ship.
p.s. there is one note i would like to add to this post. i am sorry, i am so sorry. i am out of ideas of how to change. it was never my ideas that mattered in the first place anyway.
p.s. there is one note i would like to add to this post. i am sorry, i am so sorry. i am out of ideas of how to change. it was never my ideas that mattered in the first place anyway.
Monday, January 7, 2008
He makes us small and then asks us to do big things. He gives us weakness and then calls us to be strong. He brings us lower so that our hearts will petition for his uplifting. Lord God, you who cannot lie, why do you create in me such foolishness and then command wisdom? I cant take it anymore! I dont want it! and as i speak these angry and forbidden words my heart realizes its own misunderstanding. but why God? why take a person of good intentions, of heartfelt compassion and libations of the soul and break them at your feet? why not have mercy? why not let the flowers grow over the graves of their past? why not heal those with no faith? why not heal me Father? why must i wait here in darkness of my own doing when you have the power to rescue me now? why make me dark in the first place? what is this game of free will and love and sacrifice? All i have before you now is fear, trembling, and bitterness. the roots of my love, the roots of my heart are like oil on the ocean shore, clinging onto every beautiful thing of the air and bringing it back down to the ground. And in the wake of my failures my mind speaks lies. "listen to me now, listen to me now. maybe if you didnt care so much it wouldnt hurt so bad. let yourself go because you are not who you think you are. how many times must i show you until you believe? there is comfort in apathy, there is comfort in the apostasy that masks itself as acceptance, there is strength in darkness that pretends to be light." why does he (the enemy) want me? please just leave me alone, please just stop. i find myself on my knees begging the enemy for mercy because as much time as i have spent on face before the Lord i feel like i havent seen any of his. Lord dont you know im so tired. lord didnt you hear me when i said no more, im out, i just cant stand the heat so i am getting out of the kitchen. turn your face from me for i shall surely die Lord! THERE IS NOTHING BUT BROKENESS BEFORE ME! i have become a beast in the sight of men and every beauty has been stripped to barreness.
but the Lord said...
"I will show my love to the one I called 'Not my loved one.' I will say to those called 'Not my people,' 'You are my people'; and they will say, 'You are my God.' "
- Hosea 2:23
but the Lord said...
"I will show my love to the one I called 'Not my loved one.' I will say to those called 'Not my people,' 'You are my people'; and they will say, 'You are my God.' "
- Hosea 2:23
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)