written in whiteboard markers on the mirror

So what do you do when you can see everything going wrong?  When you can feel your life unraveling?  When you can just watch your friends pull away from you?  When you know for a fact that your life is a mess but you can't control it any more?  And then you realize that you don't even like the person you've become.

What then?


And when I look into the mirror
Everything seems clearer
Because I can't stand the face
Looking back at me.
And all along
I realize I've been wrong
Because it's me that I've hated
And not you.

And when I'm sitting in the quiet
I feel like I'm lying
'Cause I keep telling myself
It'll be okay.
But this time I know
That it's impossible
Because it's me that I've hated
And not you.

And when you're standing here beside me
The only thing that I see
Is that deep down you just can't
Wait to get away.
And now I'm so alone
From no fault but my own
Because it's me that I've hated
And not you.

Yeah, it's me that I've hated
And not you.

ain't nothing like the first time

Coming into my second year, a knew that some things would be different, but I didn't realize quite how much.  I thought the second time around was going to be just like the first.  Well, maybe not exactly like it, but kind of like an iPhone update: essentially the same, but slightly better with a little bit newer look.  I thought that it wouldn't be that big of a transition.  After all, the big one is leaving high school and going to college, right?  It's not hard coming back for a second year, is it?  At least for me, it's not true.  Round two was just as difficult of a change for me as round one--if not even more. 

You see, when I stepped foot on this campus to begin the second quarter of my journey, everything seemed the same.  There were a few aesthetic differences--the cool new STEM building was finished, and all that awful construction equipment and fences were gone--but it was the same beautiful school it had always been.  And even the smells and the weather and the things going on seemed the same as last year, but everything else was not the same.

Because now, in this weird new thing for me called sophomore year, I walk through all the places that once had meaning for me , but all I find now is the memories of what once was.  I walk through my freshman hall and it's supposed to be Uganda, not Mexico or whatever Hispanic country it is now.  It's supposed to be Taylor and Ely's hall, and I'm supposed to live in it!  Look at what these freshman did to our room!  It's not all perfect like it used to be.  It was only perfect when me and Sam and Lauren lived in it.  It used to house me and my roommates and all my wonderful hallmates and friends, and now. . .it's just filled with a bunch of strangers.  And I'm freaking out a little bit, because I realize that never again am I going to call room number 135 my home.  I'll never come up the stairs under the archway, turn right, jump down the small set of stairs, and then enter that first room on the right ever again, unless I'm doing something crazy like visiting a freshman.  And I won't ever have this same group of people living together in this setting ever again because we got old and we all know that upperclassman dorms' atmosphere sucks.  And I can't even stand to walk through that hall anymore because I realize that the good times we had in this room, in this hall, in this dorm, are gone and THEY'RE NEVER COMING BACK. 

The first week that the freshman came was just one big flashback to last year, when I got to actually participate in all the OB activities.  With every event, I relived what I did and how I felt just one year ago.  I remember so vividly  how I felt during that first week or so at college, even though the experiences themselves were kind of a blur.  I remember on the night of the graffiti dance, I came from a meeting that all the freshman athletes had to attend, so all the soccer players walked over together and showed up fashionably late.  I hung out with Colin, Dan, Nate, and Sam the whole night, and felt so cool because I already knew people, whereas most freshmen were just meeting people for the first time.  I danced in the dance-off, and felt great because I had the nerve to do it and people cheered for me even though I looked pretty dumb.  I remember thinking that college was already making me more outgoing and crazy than I already was--if that's even possible. 

But now, that's all over for me.  I walk past the graffiti dance with some of the cross country girls on the way to the parking lot and I can't help but feel sad.  The other girls talk about how good it is not to be a freshman and how awkward the graffiti dance was, but I say nothing because I actually feel nostalgic about it.  But what's wrong with me?  I'm supposed to be having a good time, not reminiscing about last year!  Everything is supposed to be good right now: I'm going out with some of the older cross country girls to get brownies at Elephant Castle late at night after a good workout earlier that day.  I have friends, I'm being included in the team, I'm doing fun and spontaneous things at night, and I feel good about how I've been doing at preseason camp.  But I still miss last year more than anything else.

And it's not just the freshman activities--it's everything!  Every day is not complete unless I run through a list of everything I did exactly a year ago.  That Monday, I think about how I had to leave the Hoedown Throwdown early and run across the rainy campus to get to a paperwork meeting for track.  The next day, I remember waking up early to meet Nathan, my new-found running buddy, and having that 7 am Tuesday/Thursday run become my routine for the first month or so of the semester.  I'm not even able to live in the here-and-now because I compare every last thing I do to what I did last year.  And everything is different and I just can't deal with it.

Why do I have such a problem?  Why do I miss last year so much even though many aspects of my life are actually better this time?  I have such deep, wonderful friendships, yet somehow I miss the stage of meeting new people and feeling cool when a lot of them remember my name.  I have a wonderful cross country team that is so encouraging and helps me to do my best, yet for some reason I miss the days last year when I could run whenever I wanted to and nobody told me how far I had to go.  I know my schedule, my routine, and much more about the college this year, yet I still miss trying to figure everything out for the first time.  I have so much--but it's not the same as last year.

AND IT FREAKS ME OUT BECAUSE NOTHING WILL BE THE SAME EVER AGAIN AND NOTHING I DO IS EVER GOING TO CHANGE THAT.  Because even though this time around is so much better in many ways, it still can't compare to the first time.  Because nothing's ever as good as the first time.  As Watsky so perfectly puts it in his fantastic (but slightly inappropriate) poem, "Nothing Like the First Time,"

"But a word of warning:

The first time tends to make the bad times worse. . .

. . . After all, there's nothing like the first time.

The first time's always perfect."

And that's just it.  There ain't nothing like the first time.  My first round here at college may not have been the easiest, prettiest, or most exciting year, but because it was the first time, it was perfect.  And no year after is ever going to compare to that.

you're my distraction

Before I even heard his footsteps approach, I knew that he was going to come to me.  Not because he thought I wanted the attention, but because he was just that kind of guy.  He could see that I was upset and wanted to do something about it.  I tried to dry my tears as he sat down, but I knew that he could still tell that I had been crying.  "Hey," he said quietly, "Is something wrong?"  "I'm fine," I said, but my face told him otherwise.  "Are you sure?" He prodded, "You know that you can always talk to me."  That was his mistake.  I looked at him in the eye, then turned away.  "Not about this."  "Oh." He said. "I get it.  Do you want me to go get one of the girls?"  I shook my head. "It's not like that. I just can't tell you."  He looked a little hurt. "Really Gabby," he said, "I'm here for you."  "Fine," I finally agreed, "If you really want to know so badly I'll tell you." I paused. "I just don't feel like I'm doing my job well."  He gave a little chuckle and then smiled.  "Is that all?  Everyone feels like that at some point.  Don't worry about it. Just keep-"  "No," I interrupted, "That's not all.  I feel like I can't do my job because I'm distracted."  I took a deep breath, deciding how much I wanted to tell him.  "By someone."  He looked confused.  "Someone is distracting you?  How so?"  "You know," I said, thinking it was obvious, "I'm attracted to them and it keeps tearing my attention away from what I should be doing."  My next few words came tumbling out so fast that I couldn't stop myself.  "And I'm trying so hard to stop, but I can't.  And I'm usually so good at turning my feelings off and walking away, but for some reason I just can't this time.  And I'm sorry."  When I looked back up at him, I saw the strangest look on his face, and I knew it was finally dawning on him.  "Yes," I finally admitted, "You're my distraction."  There was a brief silence after I said it, one that most people would probably call "awkward."  And for a second there, I thought that he was going to tell me that I was his distraction too.  But when I looked into his eyes, I saw that it wasn't true.  Those two beautiful little marbles were full of sadness, distain, and worst of all: disappointment.  He sighed, and a single leftover tear trailed down my cheek.  "Gabby," he said, "I forgive you.  But you need to stop.  Now.  And I really expected more of you."  He got up from the table, ready to leave.  "I would have thought that you had much more self-control and maturity than this."  As he left me alone again, my eyes once more began to fill with tears.  And even though that was probably the worst thing he could have said, I knew that he was exactly right.  

where i belong: scenes from week 1 at camp

The sound of honking and wings flapping filled the air.  Geese scrambled to get out of my way as I walked down the land bridge toward the swimming lake.  Unfortunately, they had left their droppings everywhere, so keeping my shoes clean as I walked was a near impossible task.  As I opened the gate, I realized how weird it felt to be doing this after all these years.  For so long I had come here as a camper, so I of course knew the "don't enter the swimming area unless the waterfront director is on duty and says you can come in" rule.  Yet here I was, walking through the gate while there was no one inside.  It honestly felt kind of wrong.  I set my stuff down under my lifeguard stand, found the skimming bucket, and started the tedious job of cleaning out the water.  Although my job as the waterfront director was mostly lifeguarding, it also included removing the muck from the lake  before the first group showed up to swim.  I checked my watch as I dumped out another bucket-full onto the weeds.  9:38 Tuesday morning.  The first program, Tee Pee Town, was scheduled to swim at 10:00.  I sighed and continued working.  It wasn't as if I hated my job--on the contrary, I loved just being at camp--it was just that I never saw myself doing this.  When I applied to work at Camp Haluwasa, I figured that I would be a counselor, hopefully in one of the older programs.  I had wanted to work in kids' lives just like my counselors had done when I was a camper.  But that wasn't what happened.  They needed a waterfront director, so I said that I would be willing to do it.  It wasn't my first choice, but it wasn't terrible.  Mostly, I was just jealous of the staff that got campers.  I would have done just as good of a job as the other Tee Pee Town Counselors, I thought, Why do I have to be the one stuck here at the lake all day?  My selfishness was rearing its ugly head, and no matter how much I tried to force it down, it would climb its way back into my brain.  "God, please help me," I said out loud.  Praying out loud--as long as I was alone--helped me to collect my thoughts much better than doing it silently.  "Help me to do the job I was given," I said, "Help me not to be jealous of the other counselors.  Help me to somehow, even though I'll mostly be lifeguarding, touch the life of at least one camper this week."  It wasn’t much, but it was exactly how I felt as I finished the job of picking up goose poop.  I put the skimming bucket away, sat down, and looked up to see the Tee Pee Town campers  walking down the land bridge.  As I waited for the group to get to the gate, I looked down at my wrist.  I had on a bracelet that I had gotten last week at staff training that said I AM SECOND.  Help me to remember that this week, God.  I thought, Help me to put myself second, even when I would rather be doing something else.  I knew that this week would be impossible to get through without Him, but I had no idea just how much I would have to rely on His strength in the next few days.  Putting a smile on my face, I walked over to greet Tee Pee Town and got myself ready for a long day of guarding. 

I remember this being emotional as a camper, but this is a little bit insane.  I didn't remember having this many girls crying after the Slam skit and having so few counselors to comfort them.  I felt bad only being able to talk to one at a time, but I couldn't really do anything about it.  I sat down next to one girl and asked her how she was doing.  "Well," she said, "I always get emotional after the slam skit.  It happens every year, so I try not to let it affect me, but I can't help it, because it's basically my life up there.  I've done all those things."  The skit that she was talking about was one put on by the counselors in the older programs called "I Deserve," named after a song by Third Day.  It was a silent skit depicting the life of a girl who was tempted by many different sins--drugs, gossip, pride, lust, suicide--and eventually is trapped by them.  Satan, along with all her sins, pushes her down and doesn't let her escape until Jesus comes on the scene.  He lets the girl out of her prison and forgives her, and she is finally able to walk away from her sins, healed and whole.  Listening to the camper's story, I realized that she really had done all those things.  Yet somehow, when I asked her if she had accepted Christ into her life yet, she said no.  I was astonished that someone who had a life story such as hers didn't want to be set free.  "Why not?" I asked.  After a little bit of hesitation, she gave me the only answer that made sense.  "I don't think I can ever forgive myself," she said, "I've done so many things that I regret.  I don't even deserve to be forgiven."  I just looked at her for a second, unable to think of something to say.  "Let me get my Bible," I finally managed to get out.  I grabbed it out of my backpack a few seats over and opened up to Romans 8.  "Here," I said, "In the Bible, Paul says that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."  After explaining what condemnation was, I continued to read a few more passages to her, then related it back to the skit.  "You're right.  Your life is like the skit.  But you're at the part where you've realized that you're trapped in your sin and Christ is your only way out.  You're standing there deciding between him and your sin, and Satan is just pointing out everything you've done wrong.  And all you have to do is take that last step and kneel at his feet."  It was amazing how perfectly the skit depicted where she was in her life right now.  We talked for a little while after that, but she ended up not making a decision that night.  She told me that it made sense and she would think about it, but she still didn’t want to forgive herself.  It kind of hurt me to hear that, but I knew that I had done all I could.  I would just have to keep praying and let God do the rest.

"Okay guys," Aunt Flity said as we got back to Girls Tee Pee Town, "You have time to shower if you want.  We have an hour and a half until dinner."  Oh good, I thought, I might have time to take a nap.  Although working with the campers was fun and worthwhile, it was absolutely exhausting.  I was just about to enter my longhouse when I heard my name being called.  "Aunt Gabby?" asked one of the girls, "Do you wanna go on a run with me?"  I really didn't want to, but I knew I should.  "C'mon," she tried to convince me, "It'll only be like two miles."  "Okay," I finally agreed, "But only if we stay on camp property and Aunt Flity says it's okay."  She got the okay, and we got our running shoes on and headed out toward the obstacle course.  I don't remember how, but we got on the conversation of what sports we play.  "See, I'm trying to decide between soccer and cross country this fall," she explained, "I've played soccer all my life, but I love running too.  And I don't wanna give up soccer, but I think I might actually do better in cross country."  Although I was huffing and puffing too hard to smile, I was amazed at how God worked.  He put me in this position at least partly because I had gone through the exact same thing before.  "Well," I told her, "I actually had the exact same struggle in high school.  I played soccer freshman and sophomore year and then ran cross country junior and senior year.  Then in college I had the same problem.  Just this year I had to decide between soccer, cross country, and rugby."  I went on to explain how I had prayed and stressed about my decision, but still had no clue about what God wanted to do.  Then one of my friends had talked to me about it, and said that I might be thinking about it the wrong way.  "You know," she had said, "God might not really care about what sport you play.  As long as you're doing everything you can to serve and worship him with whatever you're doing, I don't think it matters what sport you're playing."  It seemed like such an obvious concept, but I didn't understand it until then.  I explained this to the camper, and she seemed to be in the same place I had been.  I talked to her about some of the verses and ideas I had thought about, and she said that she would look them up.  As we finished our lap around the camp, I thanked God again for putting me here.  It was worth all the work to be able to minister to even one camper. 

It was still raining a little bit as I walked back from the Tab, so I put my hood up.  I walked quickly on the way back to Tee Pee Town, not because I was in a hurry, but because I didn't want anyone else walking with me.  I had been with people all week, but as much as I loved it, I needed some time alone.  I just felt so weird and calm and broken and . . . empty.  But not the bad kind of empty.  Not the kind where you're confused and hurt and lonely.  It was the kind of empty where you've been giving and giving and giving until you feel like you have nothing left.  I was the kind of empty that Paul was talking about in Philippians when he said that he was being "poured out like a drink offering."  I felt like all week I had been pouring out and pouring out, and now I had nothing left in me to give.  I was empty and needed to be filled again.  I couldn't wait to get home and physically rest and be fed, but I also needed so badly to spiritually rest and be fed.  As I sang and walked through the mud puddles, I marveled at how God not only had been working in the campers this week, but in me too.  Never before had I felt so empty but been so happy about it.  And I knew, as I had known all week, that this was where I belonged.

blog challenge: explain your title

Okay, I confess.  This was actually part of what I was what I was supposed to blog about the other day, but I changed it up and am going to write about it today because I think it deserves its own post.  So obviously my blog is named "overwhelmed but understood."  When I decided to make a blog, I wanted to come up with a catchy name that was fun to say, but I wanted it to also mean something.  I really liked the idea of having two opposite prefixes (like over and under) go with two different words in the title, but not have it actually be a contradiction.  I finally settled on "overwhelmed but understood" because that's how my life felt at that time.  At times I would feel completely overwhelmed by everything, and other times I felt at peace because people understood me.

But as time went on, I grew to understand that my blog name had two meanings for me, both of which really do describe my life.  The first meaning is in relation to the world and other people.  Sometimes I am just completely overwhelmed by everything that's going on: stresses, temptations, distractions, and all those crazy little things that happen every day.  However, there are many other people around me that are going through the same exact things.  Therefore, I was understood by my friends.  Even though I'm often overwhelmed by life, it is an understandable feeling.

But I believe the second meaning to my blog title is the more important one.  Every day, I am completely overwhelmed by my God.  I'm overwhelmed by his love.  By his power.  By his forgiveness.  By the fact that he has blessed me so much, and continues to bless me even when I'm not very grateful.   Everything that is done by someone so perfect and infinite overwhelms the small person that I am.  But there's a twist.  Even though He is the maker of the universe, he understands me.  He became a man and walked the earth and experienced the same things that I do.  So even though I am completely overwhelmed by God, I am also understood by Him.

In this way, I am overwhelmed but understood.  And I hope that this blog provides another way for you to be able to understand me.  

blog challenge: tell about your blog

So a few of my fellow bloggers and I are starting a challenge.  I would call it a "30 day challenge," but we are all too busy to blog every day, so it's more of a "30 post challenge."  The first topic is "tell about your blog" so we're all going to blog about that this week.  (If you want to see the other blogs participating, I'll put the links at the bottom of this post).  I'm going to cheat a little bit by kind of mixing the first and second topics, but I'm sure they'll be okay with that.  Sorry for the long introduction, but I'm pretty excited about this :)

I started blogging, in short, because of my best friend Kaylee. (She has a great blog called "my unfortunately not boring life" that's linked on the sidebar if you want to check it out).  One day I was reading her blog and felt so inspired that I just had to start my own.  Her blog is completely random--sometimes funny, sometimes serious, sometimes poetry, sometimes ramblings--sometimes she even uses things that she has written for school.  But I decided to make mine more of a poetry blog, although I have branched out a bit since the beginning.  I wanted to have an outlet for my writing so the people I cared about could see it, but would still not have a huge audience.  Using the internet was also nice because I could be as anonymous as I wanted to, but my friends would know who I was and what I was talking about.

In the beginning, I wanted only my close friends to read my blog, but I think I've changed my mind about that.  I've become much more comfortable with complete strangers reading it, although they will not understand it as well as my friends.  My blog is really for anyone to read, but it is directed especially towards those who enjoy amateur poetry.  It can also be used as a way to understand me better; somehow my feelings come through much more clearly when I write them down than when I try to explain them out loud.  Originally, I didn't tell anyone other than my best friend about my blog, but eventually I told a few others about it, and now I even link to it on my facebook page sometimes.  I realized that since I enjoy reading other peoples' writing so much, I should be fair and give them a chance to read mine.

I had no idea when I started this almost a year ago that I would enjoy it so much, but here I am.  I blog very sporadically, and it often gets forgotten in my busy life.  I tend to post the most during the summer when I finally have spare time, but I write throughout the year.  I am inspired by many things, but a few are nature, my wonderful friends, and my wonderful God.  I wouldn't say I have the best blog ever, but I certainly do enjoy it.

If you want to check them out, here are the other participating blogs: http://fondlylovingstars.blogspot.com/, http://writingthedance.blogspot.com/, and http://krazykay.blogspot.com/.  Happy reading!

change and changing me

Today was one of those days when I looked around and thought, Wow, everything is different.  And maybe that's not a problem for most people, but I hate change.  I always complain about change and the passage of time.

About new challenges.
About evolving relationships.
About moving on.
About growing up.

I usually have such a problem accepting the fact that things can't always stay the same.  But not today.  Somehow, as I looked around, I realized that I'm alright.  Everything is different, but I'm strangely okay with that.  I realized that I'm okay with my life changing.  I'm okay with my situation changing.  I'm okay with my friends changing.  I'm even okay with me changing.

Because I finally understand something.  No matter what changes in my life, my God is always the same.  Even when everything around me is moving and shifting, He is stable.  And so is His love.

Today, I stood in church and suddenly wanted to run around and sing at the top of my lungs, and maybe even hop over a few chairs.  Because I've spent so long hating change and being so unhappy that things are different, but my God and His love never change.  And I take comfort in the fact that nothing I can ever do could ever change His love for me.  

So bring it on, world.  I'm ready.  Go ahead, just try and mess me up.  Nothing that you can do will ever change what matters.  Ain't nothing gonna change my God.

who else would i think of, other than you?

Cause it's me and my music on a Tuesday night
And I'm doing my homework by computer light.
What else would I say, what else would I do,
Who else would I think of, other than you?

Cause you've captured my heart and you've captured my mind,

And since we've been apart it's been so hard to find

A purpose, a calling, a reason to try.
I used to give effort but I can't 'member why.

Cause I want to forget, yet I want to go back,

So I stay where I am, but then I lose track
Of what I was doing and what it was for.
I cared for so long, but not anymore.

Cause you've been in my past, but not in my "now,"
I've tried to forget you, but I don't know how.
And you weasel your way to the front of my brain;
I don't know how you do it, but it brings me such pain

To know that I had you and now that I don't,
And unless I do something right now, then I won't.
Forever and ever I'll be grabbing the air,
Trying so hard to hold somebody who's not there.

But maybe there's some way this still could work out,
If I could search through my past and then drag you to now.
So I try to reach back through the pages I've turned
In the book of my life, but alas!  They've been burned.

Cause the books of our lives follow one special rule:
Once a page has been written, it burns up--oh how cruel!
So you cannot go backward, just on to the next.
Only one way that these pages turn: right to left.

So I sit in my room on this Thursday night,
Wondering if this will all turn out right.
But what else would I say, what else would I do,
Who else would I think of, other than you?

come with me

Someone come with me.  We're going on an adventure.  We're gonna go explore the world, and celebrate the fact that we're alive today.  We're gonna run--not walk--through life and pretend like we're seeing everything for the first time.

Someone come run around and roll through the grass with me.  Come turn summersaults and cartwheels, because living just makes me so gosh darn happy that I can't help but move around like a child.  Come sing with me at the top of our lungs, like we're exercising our vocal cords for the first time, and be amazed that those sounds are in fact coming from us.  Come run as fast as you can with me, just so we can feel with wind against our faces and feel it flow through our hair, and it's almost as if we're flying.  Come out and dance in the rain with me, and let the drops fall down your face like thousands of tears, except that they're the kind that come from joy and not sadness.  Come live with me.  Come breathe with me.  Come hear and smell and taste and touch and see with me.  Come feel my joy and passion for life.  Come with me and realize that we're alive, and that alone is something worth celebrating.

So why do we trudge through life every day like it's a chore?  As if there's nothing worthwhile in our lives anymore?  As if sometime long ago, we left behind the part of ourselves that allowed us to experience the pure joy of living.  Oh please, please come with me, see things through my rose-colored glasses.  Come with me and understand that we're alive and breathing and we made it to today, and that's more than enough.  Someone please, take my hand and come with me. . .

quiet noise

How come when it's quiet all my thoughts cry out?

I know I'm talking, but I don’t know what about.

Maybe if I'm silent I can hear my voice?

But no, it's lost again, in my head with all the noise.

A chance to live again, what would you choose?

No thanks, the offer's nice, but I think I must refuse.

I think if I did I'd just make more mistakes,

And I think my last few are just more than I can take.

You say this is the end, and I don’t disagree.

The only one that minds is a piece of the old me.

But I don’t care what that piece thinks, because--

'Cause for the life of me, I can't remember who I was.

i sing to empty seats

Driving in my car:

That's when I feel most free. 

I turn the music off,

And start singing--only me.

If you looked into my window

As I'm driving down the street,

You'd see me looking stupid,

Singing to an empty seat.

I know that I can't sing

Like everybody else.

But at least the words I say

Are coming from myself.

I sing them from the heart,

I sing them out to God.

I guess I could ask for more,

But this is all I want.

But this is all I want.

You are all I want.

the book of unfinished poems

I never finished them,
although I wanted to
'Cause every time I tried,
I always thought of you.

And every time the pen
and paper start to touch,
the memories rush back,
and they all hurt so much.

The memories themselves
are not what's really sad.
They're actually the opposite:
the good times that we had.

But the thing about the good times
is that they never last.
That happiness behind me--
you live only in my past.

And so when I sit down to write,
I find it's no can-do.
The only thing that's stopping me
is that I keep missing you.

you don't have to be mine

You don't have to be mine,

Just smile at me from time to time.

'Cause I don't have a chance with you;

Just let me watch the things you do.

I like to watch you during breakfast when you pray over your meal.

When you take your notes in church, I can tell your faith is real.

Watching how you focus when I sit next to you in school.

When you say that you're a weirdo but your friends all think you're cool.

I'm not good enough for you,

Though you're way too kind to say.

So I'll watch you from the outside--

It makes me happy anyway.

You make me happy anyway.

You make me happy every day.

again

How did I end up back here again?

I swore I'd never be this way again.

Again.

I've said it 15 times before, and here I am saying it again.

I'm not going to do this to myself again.

Again.

It'd be awesome if I could actually learn from my mistakes,

Instead of making them over and over again.

Again.

And now here I am, making this vow again.

Although I'm destined to do this again.

Again.

So I might as well accept this fate again.

Again.

Again. 

Again.

the girl in the mirror

Her whole body shook.  She had intense bloodshot eyes and a trembling lip that could have communicated either fear, nervousness, or absolute rage.  He hair stuck out at odd angles as if she was trying to create a new, crazy style.  And her eyes--those ice cold blue eyes--showed so much evil and so much fear at the same time.  A strangled cry escaped my lips.  "You are the cause of all the problems in my life!  I wish that you had never been born!" I yelled, and attacked that evil girl.  The girl in the mirror.

waiting for you

I'll wait until tomorrow
I'll wait to see the sun
I'll wait however long it takes
For your absence to be done.

It doesn't matter just how long:
10 days, 10 months, 10 years,
Just knowing that the day will come
Will hold back all my tears.

I promise that when you return
Right here is where I'll be.
I won't give up, I won't lose hope
Til you come back to me.

But if that day should never come,
And I stand here alone;
I'll never see your face again
Forever on my own.

Although I'll miss you more than life,
I know I won't be mad.
I'll treasure all the thoughts of you
And the memories we had.

Don't think it's weird I feel this way,
There's one thing you should know:
I care about you so dang much.

Enough to let you go.


Also, I need to give credit to Switchfoot here. They gave me the idea for the last line with this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYzktf4QTaU

just run til it's alright

When my feet pound against the pavement it almost sounds like they're talking to me

Every four beats: it's all your fault, it's all your fault, not good enough, not good enough

It hurts, but I can't drown them out.

I don't want to.

Because they're right.

One

Two

Three

Four

One

Two

Three

Four

Pound

Pound

Pound

Pound

It's

All

Your

Fault

It's

All

Your

Fault

I don't know where I'm going

So don't you dare try to follow

I'm running away from myself

And I won't stop until I'm there

I guess I'll know somehow

Just run, just run, just run til it's alright

I'll run to somewhere lonely

Not another soul in sight

I never thought it'd come to this

I'll run till I'm alright

I'll never stop for nothing

I'll run straight through the night

Til I purge my failure from within me

I'll run til I'm alright

The rain my only comrade

The moon my only light

My only aim: escape the world

I'll run til I'm alright

And when my legs begin to fail

I won't put up a fight

I'll fall and lie right there forever

I'm finally alright

summer thoughts

Summer means finally getting to be with friends, but it also means finally getting to be alone.  Weirdly enough, I like to be alone, and I don’t think I get enough time by myself during school.  Don't get me wrong--I love being around people, and I have great friends, but sometimes I just need to go off on my own and think.  Anyway, summer is the only time I really have to be alone: no obligations, nobody asking me to do things, no distractions, no homework.  I can disappear for a few hours and come back like it's no big deal.  And I think it makes me enjoy the time I spend with other people even more.  Sometimes my days and nights spent alone are the ones I remember best.  And the ones I miss the most.

I want to sit outside and look up at the moon and stars.  I wanna lay in the cool grass and stare up at the giant sky and feel tiny.  I like those nights when it looks like the world is in a big glass ball and the sky is just a dark blanket covering it.  But there are tiny little holes in the blanket where some light gets through.  And the stars are the tiny pinpricks of light shining through.  And I would feel so little compared to the vastness of space.  And maybe I would fall asleep there in the grass; one person in the middle of an open field under an open sky.  It makes me feel really small and insignificant, but at the same time,  being all alone makes me feel important.  I'm the only human around as far as the eye can see and it feels like a big deal.

I want to sit on my tire swing and put my ipod speakers in the grass next to me, and play all the music that brings back the best memories.  I would reach out with my legs and push myself against the giant tree like I always do.  It's only way I can gain any momentum to start swinging because there's no one there to push me, and the swing is high enough that my feet don't reach the ground.  It makes me feel like a little kid again.  And then I would just sit there and swing for hours, singing the whole time.  I sing along with my music, but then I turn it off and make up my own songs, singing my feelings out to God and everyone in earshot.  Eventually it gets too cold and I have to go in.  But I would stay out there forever if I could.

I want to go on a bike ride with my ipod on and my phone off.  I like to just ride without knowing where I'm going.  I like to take random roads just to see where they go, then try to find my way back on my own.  I get bonus points if I go home a different way than I came.  Since the ride has no purpose, I'm free to stop whenever I want.  I stop to pet horses when the fence comes close enough to the road.  I stop to discover new things in places I haven't been before: a little park, a walking path, or even just a road I've never seen before.  Sometimes, I'm overcome by the beauty of everything around me, and have to stop to take it all in.  Sometimes I end up finding a new way to get somewhere, or a shortcut, or a back road that nobody knows about.  And sometimes I get lost and have to call my parents to come pick me up.  But that's okay, because getting lost is kind of the point. 

I want to go to the beach and take a walk by myself.  Preferably in the morning, when nobody else is there.  I can walk along right where the waves hit the sand, so my footprints are washed away seconds after they are made.  It looks like I was never even there in the first place; the world has erased all evidence of me.  Being the only person on the beach makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world.  And it makes me wonder what Adam and Eve felt like.  To know that they were the first people to ever lay eyes on the world.  To take a step and think wow, that was the first time that this piece of ground has ever been stepped on before.  Or to take a breath, and realize that that air has never been inhaled by someone until now.  And so I'll just be there for hours, feeling the sand squish beneath my bare feet and wondering if this is what it feels like to be the first human to walk the earth.

I want to sit on my porch and watch the sunset.  I love watching the sky transition from light blue to orange to pink to purple to dark blue to dark of night.  It's so breath-taking and beautiful and special-looking, but most people don’t take the time to watch sunsets on a regular basis.  Maybe it's because they happen everyday, so people take it for granted.  And I can't help but think about how much God blessed us by making this world so beautiful.  And we take it for granted.  But He's blessed me in so many other ways too.  There's tons of blessings that I didn't even realize I had until this year.  And I start thinking about all those things I'm thankful for one by one.  And I could go on and on forever, but the sun has already set, the night is setting in, and the stars are slowly appearing.  But I don't want this to end.  So I decide to go out on the grass, lie down, and look up at up at the sky.