I just might regret this.

I think I'm afraid of you.
Maybe not you, but what you are.
With words like knifes and tendencies like atomic bombs, your kind are fearsome.
I've been hurt time and time again, and I've seen ones like me beaten and bruised by the group you are supposedly a part of.
Please tell me you're different and I don't have to worry.

I need hope there are good men in the world.
I need to know you are worth my time.
I need to know I am not completely insane for believing the spark of a thought lit when I met you.
I need to know there are no coincidences and there is a reason for the things that have happened.

People tell me it is blatently obvious.
and i'd Like to say i was better at hiding it than that.
i know i need to get to know You better.
but all the same...
am i a Lunatic for trusting Yesterday's insane visions?

Tonight, I'm feeling homesick for a place I've never seen, but for a face I have.
My heart is 1000 miles away, give or take 100.

Dreams

Oh dear God...


Its happened again.

Another night, spent sitting up and searching for words I really can't find, written out and set to music.
Should I write a song for this? Or should I try to fight it off and push it down again, so I can get by without my yearly dose of proximity to one. certain. person?
Maybe I am going crazy.
Maybe I'm already there.
Maybe I've been there for a while and I just haven't been paying attention.
Either way, I can't seem to fight it back anymore.
It seems like every time I open my mouth, his name and that memory are ready to fly out, looking for someone to tell me they are possible and I might not be imagining the words in my ears.
I've been crushed by unrealistic "love" before, and I know this might fall into that category in some minds...
But I can't get past the promise You made, I can't unhear Your voice or unread the words that said I know the plans I have for you...

Or maybe I am just wishful. Maybe I really am just destined for The Everyday.

A call to a friend.

My friend, I know your chasing heart.
I've been the person chasing solace and running away from the chaos in my own head. I know that.
But sister, these things won't sustain you! No guy, no distance is going to help you.
You can run to any corner of the world, any crevice you can fit into, any escape you can find, but nothing is ever going to help.
There is no life in anything that you can touch, smell, hear or experience. The only thing that is going to kill that ache and help you find peace is to go before the Father.
I can't pretend to understand the situation you're in, but I see in you the things that I felt before he took me in again. He loves you, he misses you, he wants you to be happy and not to hurt yourself! So do I.

Hermanas, para siempre. Te extraño.

Bury It Deeper.

Bury it deeper,
because everyone knows that the last thing this world needs is another sob story.
Keep it to yourself.
Everyone around you has their own things to deal with. What makes you think that anyone wants to hear what happened to you?
Be strong,
Only the weak let their guard down and let people in.

Break out the shovel.
My feeble hands clawed at the ground for way too long.
The bones of my victimized days and hours, the time I've wasted chasing other things and hiding away will lay me down in this hole, hollow and rotten from the heart out.
So here's where the question comes...
Do I lay down and wrap my mistakes close to my body like a shroud?
Do I throw another shovel of dirt on their grave, but go on worrying that someone will come and dig them up?
Or Should I lay them out for the world to see, for the Father to deliver me from, and finally let them die?

Decisions, decisions.

I want love without obligation.
I want love with truth built in, the kind that you can look at a person and honestly love them with all your ability.
I need that. I want to know that there is someone who doesn't love me because of my name, or because I benefit them, or whatever.
That empty love cuts far deeper than any insult.


Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres...

I remember the days when the breeze rattled us and the sun shone down, we held on through everything. The days of beauty, with the world below us as we floated together, so far above it all.
But the sun hid away, and the breeze turned into a whirlwind.
And we fell.
We fell like the leaves in the fall after summer, then disintegrated into dust under winter's cold fingers.

Now I'm coming apart at the seams, My every insecurity showing, like the rips and tears of a favorite shirt destroyed by years of wear.
I feel as though my tattered threads and frail stitches are going to be the death of me, and I fear the ending.
I've come to the end of me, and now I can't see anything.
I'm missing you more than I can express, the part of me that is so far away.
I need to be sewn back together.
You'll be the thread to patch me back together.