Thanks

Things I am thankful for:

-Delaware
-carbohydrates
-this fancy new lamp in my old room that looks like beach grass strung with LEDs
-the Twilight saga (no shame)
-sore thighs
-conversation
-books
-conversations about books
-beach trips with my dad
-sticky notes
-good people
-my flea-market easel
-girl talks with my mom (sometimes, anyway)
-sand in my sneakers
-our secret spot
-Richard

I've got to change something. I've spent so much time lately feeling sorry for myself, laying in bed awake and just miserable for no reason.

Thanksgiving is almost here.

I'm laying in a room that used to be mine in a bed with new sheets and a new ceiling fan over my head in a house that used to be home. I can't call it home anymore because the people that are here don't seem capable of love. I miss my old room.

It's alright to be afraid. I worry everyday. I'm so unsure of everything. I'm a skeptic, a hypochondriac and I'm anxious. I don't know where I'm going or what I want out of life specifically. At the end of the day, I just want my favorite person to be right next to me. That's what I think I'll always want. I just want Richard, my best friend, my beach buddy, my first and my favorite.

This bag of skittles is never-ending. Every time I run my tongue over my teeth I feel a little bit ill. My feet are fast falling asleep and my spine is permanently bent like the branch of a weeping willow heavy laden down with snow or rain or some form of heavy precipitation. All I want to do is have you read me something nice out of Leaves of Grass and make love to you directly but you're so far away. You're so far away and I'm not really sure how I lived in such close proximity to you for years before I came to realize that you're part of me. I can't remember what it was like not knowing you. I couldn't have really been alive.

I keep thinking about all of these things that might be wrong with me. I already have a tumor. I mean, it's benign, but the thought that something is growing inside of my body, beyond my control, makes me feel crazy. I keep having all these pains in my joints. The doctor told me that I'm double-jointed, which makes no sense because I'm not flexible at all and I read this thing online about hypermobility--the technical term for being double-jointed--that said those afflicted can do crazy things like putting their leg behind their head or some shit. I can't do that.

So I was browsing the inter-web and came across this article about lupus and it scared the living goodness out of me so now all I can think about is ah what if I have lupus or some other weird disease that even Dr. House couldn't cure and oh my God I'm dying and my life is going by so quickly and I'm wasting wasting wasting it. Maybe I'm just over thinking it.

I'm just so damn angry for no good reason.

.

Being able to drive wherever I want, whenever I want; singing as loud as I can whenever the desire strikes; my crying tree, and the rusty playground by the old Methodist church down the road from my house; waking up to hear my favorite person trying to close the front door quietly in the early morning, stepping lightly, trying not to wake me up before he could surprise me--which never worked; sunburn and that clean, salty water at Bethany; an embarrassing open mic night; sitting on the shore until four in the morning with a girl I've known since third grade; knowing that everything was going to be okay; ignorance toward the policies and rules at the place I was to soon call home; feeling pretty, radiant, feeling worthy and wonderful; quickies when good old dad left to run a few errands; Delaware; speeding to merchandise at the end of a long night at the beach; smoking blacks and feeling disgusting just because, to stay awake on long drives home in the middle of the night; smoking just to feel pure and lovely and whole; buying metro tickets, losing metro tickets, buying metro tickets again; making love on our last night together with the lights out in the bed I grew up in; crying without having to worry that someone can hear me through paper-thin walls; spooning; being happy without Tumblr being my main source of laughter; feeling accepted. Really, just everything.

I keep living these memories over and over in my head.

Reasons why I'm writing this
1. To reminisce (again) without feeling guilty
2. To avoid thinking about how angry I am at my mother and father
3. To avoid thinking about this paper that is due in a matter of hours and
4. To avoid thinking about how dreadfully busy tomorrow is going to be

I know that I need to just move on and try and make memories now, but it's hard. I have no desire to know the people around me. On the few occasions when I've revealed just a little about my beliefs, what make me who I am, I've gotten weird looks and reprimands. I am confined. My parents keep asking me if I miss them, and I have to lie. I have no desire to know them anymore either, and they're too afraid to try and get to know me again. They refuse to let me use my car because they know I'm going to visit my favorite person.

"That's the only reason why," says daddy dearest. "If you weren't with him, we'd let you have your car up there without a second thought."

Penalized for being "in a relationship." For having a best friend, someone to share all of my secrets with, for having faith in someone, loving him with all that I am. I'm being looked down upon.

Am I not good enough? Am I too ugly? Too liberal? Too smart and without enough common sense? Am I too selfish? Opinionated? Quiet? Are you afraid of knowing your own daughter? Is it alright if I'm not exactly the same as the two of you? Can I just have one small air-hole in my cardboard quarters?

I was off to a good start. I used to be really happy when I was a little kid. This past summer I felt like a little kid again and it was exactly what I needed. I just wasn't ready to be thrown into this different world where I'm expected to make mature choices, work on homework religiously, read read read things that I don't give a shit about, work work work when I'm not in class, but without any of the freedom that comes with adulthood. Makes a lot of sense.

I think I might be lost.

I remember writing essays about drugs in intermediate school in DARE.

"DRUGS R BAD!!"

I remember when I felt God and I thought everything was going to be just peachy. God never promised me that, but I didn't think it would be like this.

I remember I used to be really outgoing. A lot of my peers thought I was off-color as a kid, so I never really had many friends. I got made fun of once or twice, like most everyone else. I was happy and I just loved being around people and talking to them even if they thought I was strange. It didn't matter.

I was driving today, home from Richard's house, and I was feeling it. I don't know what "it" is, but "it" sucks. This man at a stoplight told me that both of my brake lights were out. The snowball started rolling. I called my best friend and said I was having doubts, nothing feels real and I can't seem to get out of this funk I'm in. My windows were down and these big rigs kept passing me and they were just terribly loud. Everything was so loud and I felt nauseous  and I was sobbing but no tears were coming out and close to hyperventilation. My face starting tingling and I couldn't calm down.

I got stuck behind farm equipment on my way to the Methodist church down the road from my house. Breaking down at twenty miles per hour.

When I got to the parking lot, no one else was there thank goodness, I turned off my car and got out real quick, walked over to the big tree in the side yard of the church and sat down among its roots, my back to the moss. There were bugs everywhere, but it didn't matter.

"Just breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Just calm down."

Whenever someone tells me to calm down it upsets me more. I feel like I'm losing control. I feel pathetic.

I closed my eyes and felt the air. I thought about the other day, laying in the grass with Richard after I started feeling "it" again, and he suggested we take a walk. We walked to the same place, but it was hot. We laid under the tree on our stomachs in the dead grass, and he loved me. He just looked at me and I could feel love inside of me and around me, through whatever "it" is. And he smiled and I knew then that I would never be able to love anyone else.

I keep having these doubts. Why won't they just go away?

This little voice keeps telling me that I don't really love him. It says, "You thought you loved once before, and you were wrong. What makes this any different?" And it just won't shut up. I would do anything for it to die.

My parents have told me it's not real. The voice sounds like my mother.

"Love isn't real at your age."-The two realists who were engaged at eighteen.

Thank you, thank you.

I was home at four o'clock in the morning, and I awoke to my mother hovering in my doorway, asking, "Why were you home at four in the morning? Your father is furious." Then , I told her the truth. The night before I'd spent with his family watching home videos. From nine to almost one we watched Richard and Abigail grow up, opening Christmas presents, playing in the sand (rotten tourists) and the snow, singing church songs, and eating cookies. People grow up.

Then, Abigail and I, after mommy and daddy went to bed, got into a very heated discussion over Johnny Depp, that ended in watching Edward Scissorhands at one in the morning.

It ended, and Richard customarily walked me out to say goodbye.

"19 Days," I said.

We cried, both dreading our quickly approaching separation.

We ended up, somehow, getting into a religious debate, and before I knew it, it was 3:38 AM. I sped all the way home.

I told my mom all of this, without all of the sprinkles of course. She gave me this look of disbelief, and I said, "We weren't having sex, if that's what you're concerned about."

"The proof is in the pudding," she said.

"Oh, and did you notice I put your prescription," referring tom y birth control," back in your room? You left it out where anyone can see it, and everyone knows what that is."

I am paying for that prescription, and just two days prior you were saying, "Yup, most women take it, it's very important."

Thank you for making me feel that I should be ashamed. Thank you, mommy dearest.

I am stuck in this hole, bitter, ashamed, terrified, confused out of my skull, and it's so damn deep. Please tell me, how do I get out?

Things that make me sad.

Being a legal adult means absolutely nothing. You still can't live.

How there are so many nice people in the world but a few mean people can spoil someone's worldview.

When I see people at bars and restaurants together and they look miserable.

How it's necessary to waste four more years of my life at a facility of higher learning in order to "succeed." Subsequently, going into debt for doing so.

Racism on all sides. We're all just people, but so many want to think that they are more deserving or important because of the color of their skin.

Secrets make me really sad. Like, when I talk to my mother and I want to get along with her so badly but she is just wallowing in misery and I don't know why. She tells me I wouldn't understand but I think I understand more than she's willing to credit me for. I hate when she cries and keeps all of those secret pains inside of her.

Seeing anyone upset makes me upset.

The fact that I do the same thing to this boy who loves me that my mom does to me really upsets me. Sometimes one little thing he says or does sets off this chain reaction of thought, and I get so down and he never knows what to do. All I want to do is sleep, escape whatever it is I'm feeling or not feeling. I hate being that way.

Seeing children everywhere put into situations they should have no part of.

When people hate each other so passionately in the name of their god. I'm sure any god would be saddened. How religion, since its beginnings, has caused people to drive each other to kill each other because of their differences. How this still happens today.

I wish I was still excited to go to college and learn. It just seems so pointless to me now. How my feelings, my heart, has taken precedence over that desire. I know that my parents are disappointed in me because of it. That makes me sad.

Disgusting.

I woke up from a nap an hour or so ago. Then, I ate this big nasty cheesesteak with some big nasty onion rings and a bunch of big nasty cheese fries.

Now I feel all big and nasty.

I don't know why

I've been so up and down lately. One minute I'm really happy and everything and something little happens and I'm miserable. I try to be optimistic and all but it's just not working out. I don't want to spend four more years of my terribly short life in school, I'm sick of having to be dependent on my parents against my will, I want to go into the woods, as Thoreau would say, but I don't know how to escape the cycle. It seems impossible. My thoughts are everywhere, like, I'm so overcome with caring for this one person in my life, and the people who have raised me think it's unhealthy and pointless an I can't tell them how wrong they are about everything they've ever told me. And then they say, you'll understand when you're older, but I know that I never will because they don't understand themselves, but boy they sure believe that they do. I'm sick of doing things that I don't want to do. Staying home, midnight curfew, college, teaching. All I want to do is live somewhere decent with someone I love and write forever and ever and just look back on my life in my old age and think to myself, wow, I had a great life, without having to do all of these extra things that are considered necessary to be successful whatever that means. I know this is all running together and probably doesn't make a ton of sense. I'm just tired

So, the point.

I've been thinking about this for a long time. My reaction to another blog filled me with a desire to write about it. The point. The point of being alive, of existence.

I don't know what it is, and I never will.

Everyone is searching for it, the point. Politicians, pastors, teachers, students, intellectuals, scientists, men, women, you, me, everyone is.

We buy all of these things to make us happy, big houses full of empty rooms the parallel with our empty spirits, echoing with our sighs of discontent. We buy all of this stuff to keep us entertained, to make us feels something. We install games on our cell phones so we don't have to think when there is time to do so. We find comfort in our little groups of friends who talk talk talk and never really listen to each other. We stand in those little socialization circles at parties and shows and orientations, feeling the need to fill up the silence with meaningless words. We're all trying to quiet that small voice within us that asks "why?"

Sometimes it all drives me insane, wondering why I don't enjoy being with tons of people or going to parties. Wondering why my parents don't understand me. Wondering why I don't feel anything for anyone including myself, a lot of the time. Wondering why people hurt each other. Wondering why I was ever born.

Everything seems so pointless sometimes.

Then, there are these glorious, shining moments when we experience perfection, purpose, in life. I've had a few of them.

There was this one time that this guy was dying to go on a bike ride. I was like, no way, because I didn't feel like riding a bike. He got all pouty and all, so I caved. We went on a bike ride. I remember pedaling so fast, faster and faster, and I stood up, faster and faster, and my muscles were aching so poignantly and then I released, ceased to pedal and sat on the seat looking up at the lovely twilit sky and feeling absolutely everything, yet nothing at all. The wind was loud in my ears, and tears were forced out of my eyes by it. The air was clean and I was with a great person, and everything was entirely at peace. I felt alive.

Looking back upon those moments in my life so far, I can say this much: although I don't know what my purpose is, or what the point of anything in this life could be, I know that there is one. Maybe my point is different from yours, maybe it may not be the purpose we suspect it is, but it's there.

Sometimes you just have to ride that damn bike, even when you're feeling completely out of it. The ache is worth the release.

Step back

I don't know what I believe about anything. There are times when I step back and look in on myself and I feel like I don't know myself, if that makes any sense. I'm not sure how to fix it.

Whatnot

I like listening to songs about Jesus. Even though I don't know him like I used to, I still like to talk about and to him. I dunno if he can hear me, but wouldn't it be nice if he could? Even if I'm just talking to myself, it makes me feel better. I like songs about love, too. Those cheesy ones that people are afraid to admit they like. I like listening to Delilah at night on my radio and singing the cheesy love songs on the phone. I like listening to the problems people present to Delilah, and her polite, honest answers and the soothing timbre of her voice. I like songs that are beautiful and heartfelt. I like songs that are so beautiful and heartfelt that they choke me up. I like crying while I listen to beautiful and heartfelt music. I like books, too. I like fiction and nonfiction and historical fiction and philosophy and poetry. I like books that I can relate to. Sometimes even if it scares me to relate to them. Like, the Bell Jar and Catcher in the Rye and the Awakening. I totally get the characters and they get me, and it scares me how much I see myself in them. I like poems with too much and too little punctuation. I like characters and stories and people and places and things I've never seen before outside of my imagination. However, I love Walt Whitman. Until Whitman, I didn't understand anything about life in the least. I still don't, but it's a little less fuzzy now. I like driving, too. I like riding with the windows down on my way home from work in the winter when it's freezing cold and the wind is biting and I felt more alive than ever. I like listening to music so loud that any possibility for thought is thrust out of my head through my lips singing screaming at the top of my lungs. I like pumping gas and I like burning it and I like the feeling of satisfaction I get when I see the needle above f on my dashboard. I like driving alone and I like driving with people and being driven by people. I especially like being driven by my favorite person even though he really sucks at driving sometimes because he zones out and drives under the speed limit in town. I like my favorite person. I like going to the zoo with him and watching the otters fight and make up, awkwardly watching them make sweet, uninhibited love, regardless of who is watching their display. I like going to the beach with him and looking at the stars like all cliche couples do. I like how he can point out all of these things in the sky that I had never seen before him. I like going to the movies and not watching the movie; I like this particularly because he doesn't try to make out with me the whole time or anything, we just end up making fun of the cheesy lines or the antagonist's hairline or just talking about our day when we could have done that for free anywhere but it's just so much better talking about it in hushed tones in a movie theater. I like browsing book stores and antique stores and consignment shops and cigar stores and shopping malls with him and not buying anything, spending only time, not money. I like this one time we went to a used bookstore for like three hours and just talked and sat and read and discovered and the whole time the owner was watching us like a hawk watches her prey and we felt like we did something wrong so we left. Without buying anything, need I say. I like how he corrects my posture because he doesn't want me to be a hunchback when I'm old and grey. I like it when he plays music, and I like it when he talks about the things he likes and I like how he looks when he is feeling pensive or happy or angry or whatever. I like everything about him, even the things I feel I can't stand sometimes. I like being in love, being a woman, being centered and being imbalanced, being euphoric, being confused, being without purpose,  being "all over the place", being comfortable in my own skin, being.

Avoidance.

I am supposed to be writing a research paper right now about a play I've never read. I've done everything but that. I went to the craft store, attempted to go to the zoo, wasted a lot of gas, sorted through my warm weather clothes, cleaned my room completely, jammed, got my hair cut, and now I'm updating my blog.

I can't focus on academics anymore. There are too many other things to think about. There are much better things to do than write research papers.

Suck fest.

It's funny how yesterday was one of the best days of my life, and today was a total suck fest.

I woke up early this morning to go to church. Once at church, I listened a little and wrote a lot, but I still took notes so I could look back on what the pastor was talking about later. After the service was over, I ended up talking with someone about my boyfriend. They asked, "does he love Jesus?" and I said, "I don't know." I should've just said yeah. Another person said, "'Do not be unequally yoked'," and I wanted to shout. I changed the subject instead.

Then, I drove a few towns over to work on my senior project, after filling up my car, which now costs more than thirty dollars when it used to cost about twenty-five. I worked on my project from about noon to six in the evening. I fixed all of the connections, and everything was in its proper place; then, I discovered that the integrated circuit chip in my amp-the key component, might I add-had been fried.

FUN FACT: My project is due tomorrow.

FUN FACT 2: My graduation status depends on my success in its completion.

This project is supposed to be a culmination of everything I have learned about electronics in the past three years. All I've learned is:
-Theories upon theories upon theories
-I don't enjoy technology as much as I thought I did
-I'm a complete idiot
I can give you the scoop on diodes, and explain how an op-amp works, but ask me to make one and I'm clueless. Thus, I am an idiot. The lowest form.

When I got home, my father wouldn't talk to me-probably because I was a whopping five minutes late-and my mother was engrossed in her Bible. I went to my room and said goodnight. About twenty minutes later, after sobbing on the phone with my best friend, whom I had interrupted a movie night with her friend, my mom came in my room with a terrible attitude, and said, "You really need to drop this attitude," which made absolutely no sense. She went on and on.

Oh, I almost forgot to mention... My boyfriend lost my birthday card. Then, he hit my car. Hard.

My gas tank is already down to three-quarters of a tank.

Saint Patrick's Day

Today was the best day of 2012 thus far, perhaps one of the best of my life.

I'm afraid that if I tell you about it, I'll spoil it's complete perfection.

I'm sorry.

Everything

It's funny how things just happen, without any thought or effort. I didn't plan for any of this to happen.

I felt like I was never going to graduate, but it's happening.
I thought I would never get started on my senior project, but I did, and it's close to being finished.
I didn't think I could ever get comfortable inside of my own head, but I did.
I thought I would never figure out what I want to do with my life, but it hit me.
I wasn't going to fall in love, but it happened.

Everything has been turned upside down so quickly. Sometimes it makes me happy, and sometimes it makes me sad. But regardless, I know everything is going to be okay.

I need shine.

I haven't blogged in a long time. I don't have a ton to say. Every day I open up a new post, stare at it for a few seconds, and exit out.

A lot of kids have been dying lately. Some by accident, some through sickness, and some on purpose.

I've heard other kids saying things like, "why would you be so selfish to kill yourself?" or "I have no respect for anyone who would even consider that." To be frank, they're probably the same kids that would exclude the sad kid, the quiet kid, the lonely kid.

All those kids need is someone to love them. Someone to listen, even is there's nothing to say to make the sadness go away.

It's not hard to love other people. It's really not hard at all. You have to step outside of yourself for a while, and realize that the world does not revolve around you. Everyone is guilty of it, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't self-centered the majority of the time. Just look around, just a little bit.

I was having a wonderful date a couple days ago when I got a text message from my best friend, my only real friend. She said, "get on skype" and I said, "I'm still with (insert name here)." Then, "please i need to talk to you". I logged on and she was crying. Like, hard. She told me about her medicine, and her grades, her grounding, her voices, her apathy. There was absolutely nothing I could say to make her better. I just listened, and cried with her. She said she felt terrible for interrupting, and decided to go. I couldn't get her off of my mind. I cried and cried, and my date had no clue what to do. I felt what she felt.

I kept in touch with her throughout the night. I'm available when she needs to talk. She's making progress. She's optimistic and laughing again. All she needed was someone to listen.

I mean, yeah, it's unrealistic to be available for someone 24/7, especially when you're not too close. What I'm trying to get at, you have to put aside your interests every once in a while. Just a few minutes of your "precious" time can save someone's life.

Just love someone, anyone, everyone.

Ahhh don't wanna be

In the past few weeks I've slowly come to the realization that I'm just a normal teenage girl.

My thoughts are so petty. I'm giddy, and scatterbrained. I'm smiling at text messages. I'm throwing caution to the wind!... Not really. But you catch my drift.

In the past few weeks, I've also realized that it's okay to act my age sometimes.

I've always been the one who's "beyond my years". I get along better with old people than with my peers. I'd rather stay home on a friday night and watch Moulin Rouge, or read Leaves of Grass. I usually keep myself inside of this little box, pining over what others have while I watch through the little breathing holes in the cardboard.

Sometimes it's fun to step out of the little box I've made for myself.

You should try it, too.

Rejection.

I seem to have a few people in my life who can't "take a hint." Like, they're pretty alright people, they are just starving for attention that I don't care to give. I'm not trying to be a meanie, it's just the truth.

For example: I met this guy my first day of class freshman year. He was wearing and Iron Man shirt, and he sat directly behind me in Environmental. I wanted to clean other people's teeth for a living. We were both weird, so we hit it off.

We are still friends today. Not super close friends, but friends nonetheless.

The past few days he's been texting me nonstop. I'm not the biggest fan of texting in the first place, although I'd be lying if I said I haven't done my fair share of it lately, so this is extremely annoying. Sometimes he'll ramble on about some forced, deep topic like love or loneliness or something equally cliche, and apologize for it later. I'll be like, "why are you apologizing?" and he'll be like, BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH. And then I'm like, "?" and he's like, "oh it's just friendly banter."

Then I'm like "-_-".

I just want to say, "hey, I'm busy," or, "hey, I'm kind of involved with someone," or even, "HEY LEAVE ME ALONE I DON'T LOVE YOU LIKE YOU LOVE ME AND I DON'T PLAN ON EVER DOING SO." But I don't want to reject him. Rejection must hurt like hell. Without knowing the definition of the word rejection, one can assume it's negative. Just say it. REJECTION. Ouch.

I'm not going to let little things like that bother me. Almost everything has gone right lately, and the things that haven't are completely overshadowed by my euphoria. You know, my grades might suck, I might get kicked out of Honor Society, my senior project is due in two months and I haven't even started, and I'm torn between two colleges, but who cares?

I have hope for a bright future, love and support from my family, a best friend who is freaking awesome, a nice boy who may or may not have feelings for me, and I woke up this morning after a full night's sleep in a warm bed.

There is no disconnect anymore. This is what I have been missing out on for so long.

A date.

I've never been more comfortable in my own skin. I've never felt happier.

Yesterday, I went on a date with this really nice boy. We went to my favorite restaurant and talked for hours, and browsed the shelves of Barnes and Noble for the second time this weekend. We came home, and he left.

I remembered that he had some resistors in his pocket that I needed for my electronics kit, and called him before he had been gone for too long. He turned around and came back to bring them to me. I ran out when I finally saw his headlights illuminate the driveway. I had this huge knot in my stomach.

He slid out of his car and pulled the little components out of his pocket, placed them in my hand. I said thanks, and gave him a hug.

And then something awkward happened.

I left my arms wrapped around his neck, and was like, "Can I ask you a question?" and he was like, "Sure." Then I said the most embarrassing thing: "Do you care if I kiss you?"

Honestly, I didn't even hear what he said. But I kissed him, and he kissed me.

First kisses are always weird. When you kiss someone new, you have no idea how they kiss, so you just have to roll with it. I was stumbling. All I could think was

ohmygodohmygodohmygodimscrewingthisupsohard.

I walked up my front porch steps in shock, but the best kind.

Happiness

All days are good, but some days are exceptionally good. Today was the latter.

Today, I woke up at 8:33 in the morning. I usually get up at seven or so, shower, eat, and leave for school at eight. I went without food, without a shower, and without studying. I drove 70 miles per hour the whole way there, tried to make it in time for our tech area's final picture together, which was being taken at 8:45. Halfway to the school, I got stuck behind a tractor trailer carrying chickens, driving crazy fast. 45 miles per hour. My driver's side window was down in an attempt to air-dry my hair, Radiohead was blaring, encouraging me to go faster when I was clearly stuck, I could see my breath, and feathers were flying everywhere.

I arrived in the parking lot around 8:52. Needless to say, I missed the picture. I looked like a hot mess with my greasy hair and my grey cardigan over my decimal binary shirt.

We sang in choir. We watched babies and dogs tortured in Psychology, and we watched Shark Tale in Spanish class.

I couldn't stop talking in electronics. I talked about my family, about music and tryouts, about our senior projects, about happiness. I listened to other people talk, and chimed in. We all joked and just chilled out. All the while, my kit sat untouched in front of me.

I felt so elated.

I have a feeling that is going to be at least as great as today. I'll make it so.

Him

I have this dull throb in the back of my head that won't go away. I'm thinking about so many things. All of these thoughts are beating against the sides of my skull trying to get out. I don't even know how to articulate them into words. My load is so heavy, and I can't seem to shed its weight.

I feel like He is the reason why. God. Alpha and Omega. The light of the world. That's what they call Him.

I go to church every week, usually twice a week. I used to love it. I loved basking in the presence of God, bonding with my Christian friends, learning about the life of Jesus Christ, everything about it was great. At the back of my mind, there was always this little nagging voice of doubt, questioning whether this relationship with the Creator of the entire universe was real, but I'd push it aside. Drown out it's voice with prayer and worship.

Now, the doubt has become me. I'd almost consider myself a walking contradiction. I've pretended that my faith is in the right place, that I'm totally fine in church, that I'm not bothered by some of the messages. But I am.

The college I'm planning on attending next year is a Christian college. I don't know what I believe anymore. I've cried out to God so many times to just give me a sign, or answers, and it's fruitless. I've reached out to God, but he hasn't reached out to me. I've cried a lot. I'm left alone cleaning up the messes I've made. I don't know what happened to make me like this.

I want to tell someone everything I feel, but I don't know who, or how, or really even what to say. I hope this doesn't last forever.

Me?

I'm an inherently nervous person. I didn't know this until today. My mom told me about my grandfather's recent trip to the doctor. First, I'll give you a little backup. For a few decades, my grandfather relied on the bottle. My mom, seemingly, had never seen him sober, and I, for a fact, hadn't. A couple years back, he got really sick and gave up drinking altogether. Just stopped, cold turkey. My mom swears it was a miracle, that she prayed the blood of Jesus over him, wept on her knees for his deliverance from the addiction. After he stopped, he was still the same bitter man as he was before. The only difference was the cup ever-present in his hand was one that carried coffee, rather than whiskey. Most recently, he had a non-cancerous brain tumor removed that the doctors said may have possibly been the cause of his rapid mood-swings and anger. To no avail. He is the same, if not worse, than he was before.

So at his appointment today, he yelled and cursed at the secretary in the doctor's office, threw a temper tantrum, if you will, and threatened to leave if he was not helped within fifteen minutes of his arrival.

He is an angry, hateful, mean man, and I'm ashamed.

Mommy dearest also told me today of our family history of nervous breakdowns. Now that's exciting.

I get so stressed I can't sleep at night. Everything thought that I push away throughout the days settles on my chest, and I can hardly breathe. I'm worried that I'll end up bitter, afraid to see what kind of creature I really am.

That's what I fear becoming, but this I know:

I'm too loud, but I'm too shy. I'm too open, but I'm too anti-social. I'm interesting, but boring. I'm apathetic and hypersensitive. I'm stressed out, but I'm laid back. I talk too much, but I don't say enough. I'm so happy, and yet so sad. I am everything. I am nothing at all.

I am going to be confident. I'm not going to be alone forever. I will love others. I will sing loud, and read fiercely. I am going to be.

The line I've drawn between who I am and who I want to be had gotten so blurry, but it's finally starting to come into focus. It feels great.