Of dying early. Because well here’s my philosophy.
My life has been.. filled. With great people. Great feats. Adventures and challenges. I had a grandmother who loved me to her dying day, and I was present at her dying day holding her hand and sending her on her way with love. I have learned how to remain close with my family no matter how far away they travel. I have been tested in strength, morals, and I have learned the right love and the wrong. I’ve traveled to Canada and found my inner hippie on a mountain becoming an environmentalist. I went to Mexico to help children, and learned more about my life.
I think that god (or who ever) is filling my life as much as possible because it’s going to be cut short. There’s been so much I’ve learned and so much, done so much. More things than people my age normally go through, work through, see and do. And normally I am 100% okay with my idea of things being cut short. Except. Well. I want a future. I want more. I want things to keep coming. I want this everyday, because today he made my day with a phone call:
I called because I wanted you to know I love you so much and I miss you.
I decided I just wish I could stop all the bad and bringing up the bad. Likewise I was reminded today at work of the stereotypes I use to fit into just because people didn’t know me. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to where I was comfortable instead of having to visit my same haunts and shit. For real? Wasn’t it long enough?
I guess that’s why every Sunday, all I ask for is strength. At least for myself.
I went a week without seeing him. This whole summer thing is going to be difficult, let me list a few things I missed about him.
The way he drops everything to give man kind the shirt off his back.
The way he looks after he’s given up that shirt.
The way his whole face smiles when he smiles.
The sounds of his laughter.
The softness in his touch and voice.
The enduring touches he does when we hold hands, sit together, sit near each other, walk across the room from each other, say goodbye, and other things.
The way he makes me smile.
The way he makes me laugh.
The way he pulls my hair out of my face.
The way his finger tips feel on my hand.
The laughter that we share.
I prayed to god the other day not to take away such a good thing. I really hope he listens.
I always tell everyone that I’m mad that he wins. That his life goes on and mine is stopped. Then I started winning a few battles here and there. I remembered the time I yelled at him and I chaulked myself up a point. I bought a strapless dress and gave myself another for looking and feeling beautiful. I gave myself another one when I realized when I was a good person.
Now I’m fighting one of our last battles.
You see there’s this boy, and right now it’s nothing just two friends who get together a lot and hang out. I’m holding on the fact that the guy I like is going to accept me and help me grow as much as I have been lately. It’s scary though, really scary and I freaked out last night. Knowing that I’m having this battle because of Steve, and I don’t want him to win it.
“Do you know where you can get those saint pennants? Like the St. Jude one?”
“Ya I have some. Why? Do you want one?”
“St. Jude. Because sometimes I’m a lost cause.” He didn’t even flinch the conversation just kept going. Then last the night he pulls out his pennant and says, “Take it if you want it.”
Baby maybe I’ll be your lost cause and you can believe in me.
I went to “bible study” today (hey I’m trying to find my “place with god” don’t judge) and we talked about Forgive and Forget. And how god does so why can’t we. Forgive and forget? What if there is scars? What if there is hurt?? What the hell? What if I can’t even get angry enough to think about forgiveness?!? What if I’m not worthy of losing this hurt? What if this is just the hand I was dealt and there was no changing it for other things. What if there is no “Why me?” and instead just a “Why the hell not me!”
What if it hurts so bad. What if I cried in a place full of people. What if I can’t breathe because it hurts sometimes. Because sometimes I’m so sad. I’m so fucking nothing. That I think I can’t afford to be anything else but sad. Why do I deserve this “healing” when there is millions of other people?! why the hell me? What the hell. What if I could cry because I can’t forgive myself. I can’t cut myself the credit.
So why should my god?? What am I?? but used, abused, torn, and broken. So broken. I know I say “broken” a lot but let me tell you what it means to me. It means I was put on a shelf to be forever looked at different. I lost my luster. I lost my “new toy smell” I lost the ability to stick my plastic head up high, instead someone tore it off and now it kinda hangs there. I’m broken in the sense that I can’t be fixed. I’m dirty. Destroyed. Broken. How can I ever ask anyone to “forgive me” if I can’t forgive myself?
There’s this feeling inside. Like I’ve been here before. I’ve done all this any the only thing I can feel is exhausted. I could never ask my god to take this away, I’d ask him to never let anyone else feel like this.
Because it feels like hell. Is sitting inside of you. My chest hurts, my face burns from my tears that sting, my heart feels heavy, my body feels limp.
Filed under Life, Thoughts
*sigh* As I have said in past posts, I am or was raised Catholic. Therefore in my faith we learn things like “god’s infinate wisdom” “god’s infinate love” and so much more. Yet like many other victims of anything or anyone who has lost anyone the question comes up,
In a sense I know the old saying “God only gives you the things you can handle.” Or the even older saying “That which doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger” At points though I’ve wanted to lay down in the street screaming “It’s not worth having the strength! I quit!” In a sense I guess I need someone to blame, and so I chose my god? I wonder why people like Steve exist, and from what I see at this point of view people like him exist to hurt, to tear down, to shake up, and to destroy. I can’t say I wish he never came, he never loved me, and he never pushed me. I can say though that it’s… not fair. It’s one of the most difficult things and deepened so many other wounds I wonder, is this the end of my story?
In other words, will Steve be my demise? Who else am I to blame besides myself, Steve, or what my parents for not teaching me? My role models for not stepping in? Anyone else for not noticing? All of that seems so unfair to all those people. My parents are wonderful people who love whole heartedly and believe in the good of people. My role models are plenty in my life and they have guided me through many things. And everyone else? Why blame them? Why these people close to me don’t deserve blame but god (?) does I’m not sure.
I wonder why I can feel guilty for blaming god and everyone around me, yet I find it next to impossible to give myself the same kind of forgiveness…If I can’t forgive myself how will anyone ever love me enough to also forgive my flaws…
And it makes sense why I am, I’ve been running for three years and for the first time I turned around and faced what I was running from. Let me tell you, it’s scary. Really scary. Because now not only do I have to face what I’m running from, but I have to face all the things I’ve ran past, and ran from.
Well since it’s sunday, or it was five minutes ago, let’s talk god.
I’m pissed. I’m royally mad. Not only because you took away my grandma, my moms strength, and let me watch her light fade, but also because of him. Why did you have to bring him in my life? I know I know, I’m suppose to learn some type of strength from this, I’m suppose to learn how to appreciate things, but couldn’t you just have let my shoulder injury be enough to learn about appreciating things? Or losing my grandma? Why does all of this have to happen.. to me? I know that I am the same as anyone else, but why does this have to happen to anyone? Why does this pain have to be so severe? Where is the easy button now? How can I ever love? I feel as though I have lost so many choices. Why does the rest of the world get to choose their fate and I had mine taken from me? I want it back! I want my free will I want the right to choose wrong! I want to stop crying, I want to walk head high and chest out. You took that from me, you let him take that from me. I know eventually I’m gonna have to face these questions like many other, but I sit in your masses and I sing your praises and mean very little of them. I feel as the only thing I am worthy of asking for is happiness and health, and even that seems like stretch. Because I am a wretch, and what does a wretch like me deserve.. I waited for so long for someone to pick me up and love me, but that is too much for me to ask now. I cannot even ask it of you. Instead I’m plowing my own way and facing my own fears. I’d love to say thanks for the help, but I feel like you test too much. I’ll break someday, more than I already have and god? I already feel so broken that there’s no use helping, so just cut me a break. Or forget about me for a few months, until I can gain the strength to question all of this again.
-Your once faithful follower- Me
P.S. I’m sorry… i’ll be back soon enough in one way or another.