first, i effing hate stupid blog layouts. it makes me feel like i'm 12 and this is myspace. just give me something simple. why is tumblr so much better in this department? blogger, you're insane.


and on that note, why am i so grumpy? why have my responses been so down trodden today? lame, jbones.


"you look gorgeous today."
but do i?
"how are you?"
ready for homework to be over.
"you should model."
that's dumb.
"here's a 50/50 on your test."
glad i didn't do so hot on the other one.
"you should blog more."
but should i?

CAN YOU JUST STOP THAT?

yeah, i'm yelling at myself.


so now what's built up? what's blocking this view of perfection? what the hell is doing this to me?
options:
1) depressing (but so beautiful) music playing in the background.
2) too many assignments at once.
3) cynicism. typical.
4) daydreams being interrupted by real life.
5) waking up early.
6) wasted efforts.
7) detachment.
8) separation.

ahh, i love how the list gets more vague as we move along...


1) music, where have you gone in my life? i truly feel like i'm missing a piece of my soul, or maybe a piece of my body. there isn't a single complete album right now that is tugging at my heart strings, begging to be played on repeat in my car or on baby mac, and because of that, i feel like my gall bladder is missing. something so small, but so vital. i don't want to die. give me my gall bladder back. someone, anyone, gently hand me the music that will encompass first semester sophomore year.

2) college makes me question my education. in a way that i want to quit. i've never wanted to quit in my life, but now, i do. rather than music, THIS is what is tugging at my scruples. scruples doesn't even fit in this context, but i'm going to pretend. i learned the word scruples when i was in the 6th grade. i miss 6th grade, for the simple fact that i wasn't so bitter. my fingers are literally itching at this moment because i can taste exactly how many of these sentences are not entirely grammatically correct, how many of them go against AP style. SCREW YOU, AP STYLEBOOK. i hate you. i hate you, but i'm starting to love you. and that makes me angry again, that i would start to crave a book of judgement that tells me everything i'm doing wrong. just let me blog, just let me make fragments without pulling at my conscious, screeching in my head to use correct punctuation, to capitalize, to spell out numbers between one and ten. no. no. no. watch this, J301:

hopefully i will get 7 lobsters to kiss my cheeks in california on tuesday evening at 5pm.

i know, i struggled to type that one, too...

3) see #2. and #1. and to top that off, i want to just erase the past. why does everything spin in circles when i'm ready to throw it out the window? i don't need it anymore, i don't need to relive the days, the minutes, the seconds that are imprinted in my memory regarding me getting hurt. i'm over it, already. so memories, bitterness, loneliness, heart break, why are you still there? don't be so selfish - happiness wants me now, let him have a turn. at least give him a shot. because believe it or not, he's the one i really want, the one that wants me. it's crazy how that works, right? sometimes things can go right. can't they?
oh, and this reminds me of #1. here's the deal, music...you're great, and i love you bringing me back to all of these times in my life, i like reminiscing. but do you really need to play taylor swifts' "christmases when you were mine"? come, on. i'm not 18 anymore, i'm not still in love with a boy that doesn't want me. proof: i might be in love with someone else.

4) it's frustrating when present day real-life interrupts my daydreams that are my future real-life. hence, #2.

5) self-explanitory.

6) here is when my self-pity culminates. i feel like i've put out a pretty valiant effort to ask someone to stay at KU. a valiant effort with completely rational reasonings. a valiant effort with monetary gifts. and yet it's like my words, my actions, my efforts don't even matter. i don't know many things, but i know that i am realistic. to an annoying extent. but no, instead, you're going to give me these stupid excuses so you can move home to a boy? i am simply offended, and feel used. why did i even care to begin with? i just want people to grow up.
that's a selfish thing to ask. no one should ever have to grow up faster than they want to.

7) i want to be more involved in people's lives that i should be involved in. confusing, but listen...sometimes it's difficult for me to produce a yearning to put out an effort to be around, to say hello, to spend time with someone when i know that it would never be returned. you can complain that i am not here, and that when i am, i am just detached...but you would never do anything to change that. ahh, it comes back to me resisting...people.

but can i tell you something before all of your judgment settles in? i have so much love to give, i really do. so much sometimes i feel like i'm about to burst. i can't explain it, but i want to love someone, i want to love something, and i DO, for the first time in a while, i DO love someone. i've always loved my family, and i love my best friends (which we'll get to in #8), but now i love someone outside of them. but i also want to love a kitty. and my kids at BGC. and a new friend.

8) best friends, why can't we just be together? megan, come home. kellie, come to me. emily, don't let us drift apart.
i daydream about us living in one place and spontaneously having adventures and late night talks every day. i miss all of you. so much it hurts.






the self-pity is over. i'm annoyed with myself.



i'm sorry, please forgive me.
believe me if you would.

this is kind of old. but fairly recent. i don't know the difference sometimes.





feel the pain teaching us how much more we can take, reminding us how far we’ve come. let the pain burn away from our hearts, we have time to start all over again.

i spent over a year denying this. i spent a year telling myself that it wasn’t possible to fall in love again, telling myself that i didn’t have time to start again. i said that the pain didn’t teach me that i could take more, but that i was at my limit, a breaking point with relationships. i thought i had experienced something incredible, but it turned out to be fraud. it broke every part of me, and then i was lost in this swirl of cynicism. and in truth, it really was just my adolescent oblivion believing it was flawless, when in actuality, it was so full of faults it was bursting at the seams. but because of that, i didn’t think i could love anyone again, i didn’t think anyone could love me; at least not in the utterly complete way i needed. they could love parts of me, the concept of me, but not what was actually there.

i didn’t think i could be loved…or maybe i didn’t want to be.

but...
things have changed. dramatically. my heart is still there telling me no, but my head is reasoning that maybe it’s time. it’s a battle between my desires and my logic, my stubbornness and my ability to open up. what if my heart keeps telling me to be selfish and alone and unloved? it’s not best for anyone, but when you fall so far down and realize how fragile you are, parts of you, parts of me, start to say that it’s better to stay cracked than transformed and shattered again.

but my heart is new. my soul is just bruised. and you’re slowly healing me.

because of that, i’m scared out of my mind, like normal. i’m scared because i know i start to question things: if i deserve this, if i’m ready for this, if it’s really as perfect as it seems. i’m scared because i don’t want to become dependent on someone again, i’m scared because i promised myself that i wouldn’t ever let anyone mean that much to me again. all i wanted was to travel the world and wear skinny jeans and love jesus and move to africa. i wanted to do it alone…but only because i thought it would be easier. i wanted to do it alone because i didn’t think anyone would go with me.

and i’m scared to hold his hand.
i’m scared to hold his heart.
i’m scared to lay in bed with him all day.
i’m scared to spend every second of my free time talking to him.
i’m scared to have perfect weekends together.
i’m scared to think about him all day, every day.
i’m scared to be set free.
i’m scared of being spoiled.
i’m scared of being held.
i’m scared of sweet surprises.
i’m scared of a potential future.
i’m scared that i feel safe.
i’m scared that he will prove all of my ideas about love wrong.
i’m scared that i will admit these fears to him.
i’m scared that maybe i’m not scared at all, but just caught off guard.
or maybe i’m scared that i’m more scared than i can admit.
i’m scared i will be ripped apart when least expected.
i’m scared that i don’t ever want to be without him.

can you lie next to her and give her your heart as well as your body? and can you lie next to her and confess your love as well as your folly? and can you kneel before the king and say i’m clean?

essentially, i think i…_____ you.

maybe this will help in the end.

maybe it won't all turn out wrong.

all i know is i don't want to feel myself slipping back into that trench of dependence. i just have to learn to...float. for a very long time.




but my legs get tired when i swim,
and it's you that has let me in.
just don't let me drown in this sea,
because she told me, "love will set you free"
won't you help me believe?

maybe if i just talked a little more…

since when have i become timid? is it timidity? or is it cynicism?

i realized tonight that i have to start letting go of things; things that i thought i had previously released from this clenched grasp of self-pity. i keep telling these same stories, with the same emotions, when really my perspective on them has changed. so shouldn’t my presentation of them change as well? or am i still that 15 year old girl that needs her mom? because i use bigger words and wear prettier dresses and sometimes let my hair down but that depth in my soul is still filled with the water of bitterness.

but i feel so much older...

and i suppose the maturity has started to take a more significant effect. i am able to see the good, to see the way that i’ve sprouted from a child to something much more. i still resemble one, don’t get me wrong - i wear silly bandz and run into fields of wildflowers - but now, rather than that precious oblivion, i see. this mess of mistakes is uncovered, exposed, and it simply makes me…sad. angry. cynical. i don’t know what you could call it, but i keep searching into the mess deeper and deeper, finding the foundations. but is that healthy? because then i start to despise people. i get to the point where i don’t want to interact with those that i once found so intriguing. i start hanging my head, looking more at my new vegan shoes than the man with curly hair and a crooked smile. i can’t continue this pattern of secluding myself from society if i’m ever going to have an authentic relationship with christ, thus ever going to have happiness, because those two are synonymous. i have to have both.
so maybe if i just started talking more, and listening more, not for the sake of listening but for the sake of learning. and then maybe, just maybe, my searching into the mess of mistakes will actually produce something fruitful - maybe it will produce healing and perspective and…better than anything else, something i’ve lost sight of in this mess…love.

love. love. love.

tangible love.

bona fide love.

honest, proven, credible love.

not just a word, but so much more. julie, you were right - it’s a love that only comes from a father. and when i stopped seeking the earthly version of that, i only searched for god. and it was refreshing, but almost exhausting. so i stopped. i stopped searching for -any- type of love. i thought it would be easier. but it’s even more draining.

your heart says not again.
what kind of mess have you got me in?
but when the feeling’s there,
it can lift you up, take you anywhere.
the gravel beneath you and the limbs above,
if anybody asks you where you’re coming from,
say, “love.” say for me, “love.”





i would like for every night to end with national geographic, the avett brothers, an old apartment with high ceilings and zero doors, singing sweetly under my breath to my favorite ingrid michaelson songs, and an oxford comma.





there’s only one thing here worth living of…
say, “love.” say for me, “love.”

how does it work, this whole love thing? because i guess i'm trying to get back to being even remotely intrigued by it, but it's difficult. and i guess that's because i'm confused. curious? not entirely, but just wondering how and why and where. i feel like the when will work itself out, but if i screw up the rest? it's debatable.

i guess we'll start with where. this "soul mate" - where do you meet them and where does it begin? a bar? a class? a concert? right, i get it, nobody knows. "it's different for everyone." fine. i guess i can deal with that.

now why? to fulfill natural human desires? to feel a purpose? to believe in yourself? to believe in someone else? to be completed? ok. i see that.

but how? how do you fall in love, how do you get someone to fall in love with you? is it really a natural process? how do you keep them around if you don't have the voice of patty griffin and the body of keira knightley mixed with creativity and enthusiasm and spontaneity and spunk? what makes you worth keeping? what makes anyone worth keeping?

love is a weird thing, i wish i could figure it out sometimes. but then i realize i fall in love often, with shoes and ideas and food and impossible dreams. how, and why, and where do you fall in love with irreplaceable people?


i've been waiting and waiting for my doubt to come.

if i had my way i would tear this all down, tear it down, tear it down, tear this all down.







maybe it's because i've felt so close, but i can't seem to grasp it in all of its glory.
so why?
and how?
and where?
am i going to love someone?

i don't even know where time is going, but it's slipping so far away from me.

my sister gets married in 11 days. i don't know how to handle this. i feel like when she becomes a wife, she will no longer be a sister. and i know that's not true, i know that's so silly to say, but i just feel...alone. because i'm selfish and i want her all to myself, but all to myself she is not happy. and so jarred, i will let you have her. but i hope she doesn't stop being my sister. because i need her.


what do you go home to?

i'm losing so much control of myself because i've kept together for too long.

it was a long day.

no kellie.

absolutely no progress on my paper.

waking up late.

losing my keys.

all of those ordinary trivial things that just throw me off. i am typical.

and then there is the other issue - the people thing. i love people, i really do. i mean, i think i do at least. but when they’re emotional and when they’re bonding and when they’re expressing so much joy from the past and hesitance to move on, somehow i just become secluded. i don’t like it. maybe i don’t like when they expose themselves so promiscuously. i’m almost embarrassed for their lingering emotions. or maybe i am embarrassed for holding mine back. more so, for not having the ones expected of me to begin with. i am suppose to be crying right now? what the hell? no one told me that. what for? oh, because someone is leaving, or because the memories are just too much to hold on to? well, i just failed that social obligation. the crying thing isn’t me, everyone knows that, but i guess i should at least feel the want to cry. why do people display emotions to those that don’t know the best parts of them? it’s not even fair. i say fair because if you are exposing your inner most self, then they must appreciate you first, on a deeper level. and they don’t. so for all of you, i am embarrassed for you. it’s a weird thing, this embarrassment. too difficult to explain.

time for another swim. another dive into the deep end.

this whole “exhaustion” thing. “you must give everything you have. you must love unto exhaustion. work unto exhaustion, and walk unto exhaustion.” first, why is it “unto,” rather than “until”? but that’s really just something technical. however, i’m quite familiar with the exhaustion. but is it the right type of exhaustion? am i exhausting myself in conformative ways (conformative is not a word, by the way. but it’s fits, just play along)? because i may be working unto exhaustion, but that’s because i am too lazy to plan better. and the walking unto exhaustion — maybe sometimes, but only because the hills in lawrence are ridiculous. but the loving unto exhaustion? i used to do this, and it was….EXHAUSTING. but not rewarding. and so i stopped exhausting myself. i stopped depleting this supply of love. is love renewed? because if you truly love until exhaustion, then maybe the supply really is nonrenewable. am i at a nonrenewable stalemate? or do i still contain the capacity to love until exhaustion. however, i feel to really do this properly, someone else has to be loving you until exhaustion. it’s like your love is mutually exclusive, by depleting yourself, you’re renewing each other. and i don’t just mean in romantic relationships. in any healthy relationships, it’s depleting and renewing and exhausting and rewarding all in the same.

so i guess i’m curious if others are exhausted without reward while loving me. because i may work unto exhaustion, and maybe walk unto exhaustion, but do i love unto exhaustion? because that involves giving yourself, sometimes promiscuously. sometimes giving your best to those that don’t understand it. and i don’t know if i’m willing to do that. i don’t want to be embarrassed of myself.

i'm so good at running.

my freshman year of high school, i was ranked top 3 in state in three events in track. i was 15 and i was awkward and i was fast. i didn't even have to practice - my coaches could care less if i did the entire sprinters' workout or not - i was going to win regardless.

but it's like the running became more than just the asphalt, more than the red turf - i started running from things, i started running to things. and i was good at it.

"so when you run, make sure you run to something and not away from."

i ran from emotions, i ran from situations, i ran from people.
i ran to passions, i ran to outlets, i ran to safe relationships.

and don't get me wrong, the running toward passions and outlets and safe relationships is great, chasing after dreams and what not. it's just like the races, when i would round the final curve and chase after the girl ahead of me. i never lost.

but i forgot to tell you how much i hated running. it was exhausting and monotonous. it didn't bring all this joy and freedom that people talk about, the release wasn't there. i was so good at running, but i hated every second of it.

so the running away...that's what i'm scared of - the fact that i'm too good at it, but i hate it. it's exhausting running from people. it's monotonous, and it hurts. but i keep running, i keep pulling out of reach.

"disappear from your hometown, find the people that you know.
show them all your good parts, leave town when the bad ones start to show."

i start sprinting when the bad ones start to show. and i'm so good at it...




maybe one day i'll stop for a while and breathe.

come to the father, you who thirst, and you'll thirst no more.


sometimes i just want someone to fall in love with me, not the idea of me.

yes, i do watch espn.
and i read books.
and i laugh at a lot of things.
i like to wear pretty clothes.
but i love jesus more than that.
and i work hard.
i appreciate quality music, and quality people.
and broken people, too.
i want to take care of dying babies.
and give those with nothing a chance to do something bigger than anyone could imagine.
i love basketball.
my family taught me to play, to laugh, to question.
they have strengthened me.
and i've grown.
i am strong, and loyal, and silly, and tall, and doing my best to serve an almighty god.
i'm ready to live overseas and around the world.
i'm so excited for everything in my future.
but more excited for the unknown.
i love to swing on a swing set in the afternoon and go for a midnight swim and run until my feet don't touch the ground.
the summer makes me brighter.
and the winter makes my sinuses act up and i get all sniffly.



but what about the rest? will anyone ever love all the rest? the weak parts? the ones that aren't intriguing, the things that are typical and mediocre? my awkwardness. my obnoxious nature.

it's really just curiosity. i'm not worrying by any means. maybe god does have someone that will capture all of me and think it's irreplaceable.


the cool part is even if there isn't that person - i think i'm ok with that. cause i mean, my god is pretty freaking big. and kind of knows what he's doing. and i think that maybe if there isn't someone, then it could be the best option for me. and i could travel and never look back. i could give my heart to children and their families. i could experience things in a different light. it could be pretty awesome.


but you know, i was wondering if sometimes we fall in love with the idea of god, too.

why can't we just fall in love with him instead?