Restless...

Bright blue skies. Ruby-chested hummingbirds. The first fragrant flowers.

This is what spring is all about. The rejuvenation of life.

New beginnings, fresh starts...

This spring, I've needed a few of those fresh starts.

You know I mentioned before I want to just go - and do - and see - everything. The world, it's incredible! And it's at my fingertips.

God has something amazing in store for this summer. I can feel it. Not in the way I know I'm hungry {we are best friends...}. Not in the way I know I'm tired.

It's sort of unreal. Like I'm not quite sure just what to feel....I just know it's there.

Every opportunity is a chance to do something worthwhile.

 

I watched a youtube video earlier today about a gentleman interviewing a man who was probably in his later 50's. The guy brought up a few key remarks about our culture that I have mulled over myself.

 

One thing he mentioned was how desensitized to wonder we are.

 

This world is amazing!! And nobody is happy. We have SO MUCH at our finger-tips, and we complain.

 

We don't even realize how blessed we actually are. Just think back a few decades... Woah! Wifi didn't even exist!! And you know what, they all survived just fine.

 

Among other things, the guy discussed how everybody without fail makes this huge deal about flights - cancelations, delays, sitting on the runway....every possible little thing that goes wrong with their flight.

 

Having just recently made my first flight ever, I am very in tune with what he talked about. No one is happy. While this was a new and exciting experience for me, everybody around me muttered about how unreliable airlines are.

 

I had three flights canceled.

 

I only flew in three airplanes.

 

One cancelation left me stranded in the Chicago airport for 14 hours.

 

Everyone kept asking me if I was mad, if I hated it, what I did about it - as if I should be furious.

 

My question back was - why?

 

What entitles me to anger over a delayed flight?

 

How incredible that I even got to be in an airplane!!

 

 

 

 

It was just so neat to be so many miles in the sky!! All I could think was how incredible the journey was, how much I enjoyed those first few minutes in the sky! And the other two flights did not lessen in amazement. The clouds were gorgeous! The earth so tiny. I could see all those places - the people, homes, cars - and all I could think was how big it was, how I was seeing only a small portion, how many people there were, and how, in view of them all, God loved ME and cared about ME on this flight right here right now....

 

There is this seed of discontent in our culture that saturates everything - everyone.

 

I just want to know.

 

WHY?

 

I am restless. I want to go places. I want to see things. I want to do something.

 

But everywhere I am, everything I witness, everything I do - right here, right now - is amazing too. If I cannot appreciate this, why would I cherish anything else?

 

This is my life.

 

And it is glorious.

 

 



 



It's about time...

I kept telling myself, tomorrow I'll get on blogger and post something. Maybe tomorrow I'll have ten minutes and I can catch everybody up. Tomorrow will be the day, that special day, when my life will magically disappear (I'll be a ghost) and I can do everything I dream of all at once {and maybe I can actually sleep!}.

Tomorrow, obviously, never came.

 

 

 

So here we are. Two months later {really I *thought* I had posted something in February...}.

 

But I've had several friend discuss blogging in the last few days and it gave me the blogger itch, so here it is, a much belated {and very lame} post...

 

Sometimes, it's so easy to get caught up in things. To find all your strength sapped away by life. Ha! What strength? I think I'm just beginning to find that out. That I have no strength... I have always felt like I had to be the strong one. For my younger siblings. For different friends drowning in grief. I never gave myself time to cry. Never allowed the fear to creep in. Told myself to be brave and face life no matter what it threw at me.

 

Yeah, so I've been learning it's ok to not be strong. To let other people handle it - or more importantly, God.

 

This is short. Not so sweet. But it's a start. Plus I have a million posts I have written in my drafts box that I'm going to start going through and finishing. Several are about my writing {ooh, that'll be exciting}!

 

So, have a good night and all that, and hopefully I'll be back more often!

 

 

 

 

 

 

(Hey, this is Caitria's sister Brisa. I'm 16...of course I don't act it...more like 13 or so...anyways, my friends call me Brisco, Janie, Birdie, Bert, Bob, Bruce, Lame Jane, BJ or anything else they feel like calling me. I'm not picky and generally they just call me a name based upon my mood.-I'm really moody-. So to start out I'm going to tell you about myself. Like I told you, I'm 16 and I'm Caitria's sister. I have short brown hair that looks like something between a 7 year old with scissors and a bed head. I'm about 5ft 5in...or depending on your ruler. I'm amazing at singing off tune when the guy I like is near and I can trip up the stairs like no one else. I rock at 52 card pick up. Seriously, I'm the best. I should be given a trophy. Anyways, so I'll stop with the boasting (I could seriously see you all turning green with envy). I sing in a choir and hang around my friends acting as grumpy and moody/depressed as possible to see which ones laugh and which ones try to help. I love to play volleyball, football, soccer, volleyball, foursquare, oh, and volleyball. I like to watch soccer and volleyball. Oh, did I mention that I like volleyball? Well, I do. So I don't know why I'm writing this, I think it's cause I'm tired and really stressed out about tomorrow. I type out dorky things and eat a lot when I'm stressed.-I used to be skinny. So I want you all to know that Caitria is an AMAZING older sister. She let's me do pretty much anything, from having folders and files on her computer, pinning things on her Pinterest to letting me spend the night in her room (or spending the night in mine) and letting me borrow clothes and taking me places and making me fat with all the treats she buys me. Seriously, you all should be jealous. Really. *Nods enthusiastically and then holds aching head*. Anyways, it's really fun to be me. Except when you have a theory test. Seriously, I could use some help with that. I have taken the stuff so much you'd think it'd be ingrained in my head, but I still struggle to tell you anything about it. :( Moving on...cause I'm just choking up right  now. Not. Ok. Ok. a;fhjasop;ifjd......that's how I feel most of the time. you can relate. So I'm just going to say that I'm just a regular Lame Jane...And I don't have anything fun to say. If you actually read this entire thing...I'm sorry, I'll try to get you some sanity treatment soon. (Whatever that is, I need to look into it for myself too. Maybe we can go together!) I'll talk to you later. (Actually, I just lied, I'll probably never talk to you. You're prolly glad.) Anyways, have fun with Caitria  and I hope you don't die today so you can have a good night sleep and forget this ever happened. Wait, what happened? Nevermind. Bye people, it was nice not knowing you.)

 

 

So I don't think she expected I would really post that. She wrote it for me more than you. But, I just have to brag for a moment. This girl is awesome. Seriously {you just read that, right?}. She is hilarious, witty, adorable....just about everything you could ask for. So, here's to my lil' sis! I love YOU, BJ....  <3 <3

The Depth

Going back through my archives, it's been interesting to see the different way's I've tried blogging.

There have been random days. Cliché days. Weird days. Story days. And God days.

After each of them, I have discovered my heart has a different reaction.

Actually, I don't know if I want to use that term. "My heart". It is so hollywoodized... It means so many different things. What I am trying to say is not the feel-good-sensory inside of me. It's not the thing that loves or hates. It's the part of me that feels conviction, rejoices, weeps, and forms opinions. That could be my soul. Or my mind too. There is no way to say exactly what it is.

I'm going to call it my Guard.

After posting something at random, I feel stressed. Did people like it? Was it stupid? Purposeless?

Ok, strike questions 2 and 3...

When I post cliché or weird, I am nervous. WHY did I do that? Everybody does that! Who's going to care about this? I just humiliated myself.

Story days tend to bore me. My own writing. My own tales... I'm creative. But unoriginal. Is that possible? I can tell a story. But not in a way to make people laugh. Not with the spark of life necessary to build a punch line.

The only time I can think of my Guard feeling satisfied when I click that "publish" button is God days. When I share what is going on inside me. What is building my faith and teaching me life lessons.

I've been re-surrendering things to God this week. Over the past month, I'd been trying to run things. "Trying" is the right expression. Talk about out of control! It was time to start afresh.

So I gave it all up again.

Funny how we have to do this over and over and over...

"For God has consigned all to disobedience, that he may have mercy on all."

Romans 11:32

Over and over and over again I struggle with my sin. With how I can't beat it. Can't make it go away for good.

And believe it or not, my comfort is in the fact that I can't! Because that sin, those trials, suffering, all of it, forces me on my knees. Makes me go to Him. Pour out my cares.

There is a very old song, one that my mum would sing to me when I was no more the 2 or 3. Cast All Your Cares on Him. I love this song. I still sing it all the time, to remind me that when things are too much, He is there and He wants me to dump them at His feet!

It feels good to get on the right page again. Even if it's stained. I know I'm going to fall again. But that's not depressing. Because I know new lessons are between me and that new page. New opportunities and experiences and blessings and lessons.

I guess I'm not saying I'm only going to post God things. I would love to do that. But I relish the life He gave me too. Instead, I just want to bring Him glory, instead of try to bring the attention to me. Or a worldly pursuit.

"Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and how inscrutable His ways.

'For who has known the mind of the Lord, 

or who has been his counselor?'

'Or who has given a gift to him 

that He might be repaid?'

For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be glory forever. Amen."

 

 

night lines

Heart strings tugging. Devouring. Pleading.

My head says wait, stop. Take your time.


I am impulsive. I jump into things before I think about them, most of the time. Friendships have been made that had to be broken. Choices have come back to smack me in the face.

Most of the time, I love my impulsiveness. The ability to just ... do. I am such an extrovert. And in a world that is turning introvert - and proud of it - I am beginning to be part of a rarer and rarer breed. I do not fear people. I do not fear what they think of me. I mean, I care. I've gone over that before. But the reflection of that caring came out in my actions, not my personality. While I would seek to do what I thought they wanted, I was still as driven by my hyperactive energy and craziness to stand out.

I feel like an open book. People look at me, and I know they understand what I am thinking. It is unsettling. Nerve-wracking most of the time. I think that is what makes me want to do the unexpected. To catch them off guard.

That impulsive decision to just do...it gets me in messes. I have to clean up life a lot. I say things on impulse that later I realize...I didn't even mean...at least, not in that way.

And there are days when I respond to that inner urging...and I know it was God. He directed that pathway.

Today, I had an urging to share a bit of my heart with a friend. And I do not regret it. It was a God moment.

Now, it's almost midnight. I am sitting here, reflecting my day. Each decision. The reason behind it....wondering. Why? Why did I make that choice or that decision. What will come of this....

This is the time I think. My night lines, I call it. When I drag every tiny detail of my day to mind and ponder...ponder...ponder...........

When I Stare at the Sky

Once upon a time, I looked at the world with rose colored glasses. Everything was beautiful.

 

And then one day, someone took them off.

 

I saw ugliness. Cruelty. Pain.

 

I understood despair.

 

Do you ever just sit and imagine perfection of life? That feeling of security. Dependence. Peace. A wash of ultimate harmony. Beauty. All of it. Real.



When I was a child, I lived in this place. This perfection. I found everything simple. Glorious. It's not that I was ignorant. Or unaware. I chose to see a side of life that was far from the destruction of sin.

 

I'm not sure if that was necessarily a good or bad thing. I did not see the flaws in other people. I did not judge. But I did not see the heart of wickedness. The destruction of friendship through disloyalty and jealousy. I expected people to be good. And we are not.

That moment, when my eyes were opened to the real world, I was grieved. Deep down in my soul. Pain welled up. Overpowered. Tore me to pieces. I couldn't believe it. My perfect world. Nothing but a mist of shadows, a vapor of dreams...

 

I wept. For the world that was not. The world I saw could be. And watched disappear.

 

I asked my Daddy why, why God did not just sweep us up right off to Heaven. Why leave us here to suffer? When He is all knowing, why make us wade through this giant mess we call life?

 

My Dad sat me down on the couch. He looked me straight in the eye. And said, "If we do not understand sin, we cannot understand forgiveness. If we do not understand hate, the power of love is lost."

"For God has bound all men over to disobedience, that He may have mercy on them all." Romans 11:32. 

Once upon a time, there was perfection. In the garden of Eden. But God gave man a choice. He allowed corruption to infiltrate the world. So that He can show us His infinite grace...mercy...forgiveness....love.

 

There will always be the pain of failure. We will always mess up. We have been bound to it.

 

So that God can have mercy on us.

 

But it doesn't end there. If you accept that mercy. Plead for that forgiveness. Welcome that love...you will die to this corrupt flesh and rise again a new being in Christ! You will find eternity in perfection, in Heaven, the home of God's creation.

And it will be perfect.



Sometimes I still stare at the sky. I still wish things were perfect. That I wouldn't have to wonder. Feel this pain. Confusion. Humiliation. Sorrow.

But I know they are teaching me. Defining me. Refining me. For His power. And one day, perfection will come.



some things don't need captions

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



It might as well be Spring

 

I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm
I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string
I'd say that I had Spring fever
But I know it isn't Spring

I am starry-eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
Oh, why should I have Spring fever
When it isn't even Spring?

I keep wishing I were somewhere else
Walking down a strange new street
Hearing words that I have never heard
From a man I've yet to meet

I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud or a robin on the wing
But I feel so gay in a melancholy way
That it might as well be Spring

<3

 

 

When Time Flies

Do you ever catch yourself thinking, just where did that day go? Or maybe tried to figure out how the time zoomed past so quickly?

Or perhaps you just wonder how it escaped you that May is over and June has begun...

It seems like the more I try to capture each moment, the more they slip away from me. Time crawls. And disappears.



I seem to be soul searching more and more these days. And the more I learn, the more I examine my heart. The more I fail, the more I seek answers.

Have you ever been surrounded by laughing friends and felt alone?
Have you ever been touched by a sunset and felt like crying?
Have you ever stared into the eyes of someone you loved and know they didn't love you back?
Have you ever woken to singing birds and known that the only option was to pretend to smile?
Have you ever been trapped in your own disgust?
Have you ever thought there was no way out?


I learned something this week.

I learned that I hate myself.

Every part of me.

I know the ugliness of my own heart. I know the jagged edges and bitter tastes. I know the anger and jealousy. I know the blackness deep in my soul.

I admit them. I am human. Bare. Brittle. Bound to failure. {Romans 11:32}

Raw emotion cannot be erased. Shattered hearts cannot be remade.

I also realized that I expect myself to be perfect. I hold myself to a standard so high, the bar cannot be seen.... And it rips me apart, because I always fail and will always fail.


So I made a few decisions.

 

 

First of all, I am going to stop hating myself.

God made me just the way I am. He likes me. He LOVES me. He wants me to be this way. I cannot be perfect and I should not expect perfection. I have been washed in the blood of Christ and before God I am a pure lamb. I am free of guilt and shame and mistakes.

I am going to appreciate the things He has made. And I am one of them.

Second, I am going to live like no one is watching. How many times have I admitted to you that I am a people pleaser?

I think I have finally snapped the chord. God and God alone matters now. I am exhausted. I am broken. And it is all my own fault. I try so hard to please people I don't even need to. I do things I don't like just to make them happy. I pretend to not care when I care very much.

This time, it is not something that I have decided. God actually showed me how ridiculous I was. He showed me all the things I was doing to get other people's attention. He showed me how silly I was. If someone wants to be with me...they will be. They will choose me. It is not hard for me to give love back to someone. If they try...I WILL love them back. It is my nature. But from now on, I am not going to chase empty smiles. I know who loves me and who does not by what they say and do. It is no mystery. And I know that the friends that really love me are going to be my real friends and I am going to stop chasing fruitless friendships. I am going to do what I love. I am going to do what God asks of me and stop ignoring the small voice whispering in my thoughts for the desires of my own heart.

It is time.

Time to be a voice, not an echo.



 

 

Sometimes, you can't explain some love. Sometimes, it goes deeper than your head. It springs from your heart.

 

I am going to give this love to God. Let Him control it. Let Him move it. Let Him guide it.

 

And wait for Him to lead down the path it takes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hadn't intended to baer my heart tonight. It just sort of happened. I guess I am learning to stop hiding. I hid for years, in fear. And I am beginning to learn that some things are meant to be shared. So that we can learn from each other. We have to be vulnerable to rejection to be open to acceptance.

 

 

 

 

This has my song the last few weeks:

 

 

 

 

Journey

 

 

I pick up my pencil and stare at the blank page of notebook paper. There is so much to write, but I cannot find the words. A deep blue sky hovers over me, warm breezes tickle my skin, and I glance around from my perch in the old oak tree. For a moment I let the moment just suck me in, pull me apart, and fill me with wonder. Then I turn my notebook over and flip through the pages scrawled with smudged lead. One page is illegible, stained with tears. Another is half torn where I ripped out the writing I could not bear to erase or keep. This is my journey. A sigh expands my chest and I try to catch it and stuff it back. It won’t let me. When it escapes, a part of me does too. This notebook, this story…this is me. It stares back at me, reminding me of all the days I spent alone. I set my jaw and flip the notebook over again, smooth out the clean, fresh page, and lift my pencil. Today is different. Today is sweet and beautiful. The only tears I could shed are those of joy. I want to write something new. Words slide through my mind and I scrawl against the ledger lines, watch the swirls and curls of my letters form against the indigo line.

 

For so many years I was alone. I felt abandoned, forgotten, and helpless to stop it.

What could I do in the face of such hopelessness? There was no escape.

I was trapped and no one was there to sever my chains.

 

I don’t want it to start so sad. But it has to. How can you explain the depth of joy when you cannot feel the cavernous pain? But I know where it is going. I look up and watch the sun break from behind a puffy cloud. Sparkling rays dance on the paper, on the green leaves, through the shimmering air, over the rustling prairie grass. Memories flood me.

I held my heart in my own hand. It was broken, crushed by an aged care, and I was too afraid to let it go, too afraid it could never be fixed. I could not do it.

When I clutched it, I could control my heart. I was bound to it and the rulings it kept and needed. But no one could have it. And no one could fix it.

Weary time crept by and sharp edges wore down.

Fear filled me. Fear that I would never be made whole. Fear of letting go to be healed.

As the days passed, I began to see there was more out there than loss. There was more than brokenness and despair.

A Healer was knocking at my door, if only I would let Him in and listen to His words.

I fought the urge to let go, to give up the grip on my heart to Him. I wanted the control, to feel safe in my own power.

But I had no strength. I had nothing.

 

Tears sting my eyes when I think of the days I wasted, longing for something I already had. How long was He knocking and I didn’t hear Him? Why did I never see it was there all along? Thankfulness for Him fills me. An unconscious smile creeps up on my lips and a sweet sensation fills my belly. Now to write the best part of all!

I didn’t know how to answer to His call. I couldn’t tell what I wanted. Freedom was the only light that shone in my eyes, but it was so very distant.

Slowly, so very slowly, I loosed my fingers and reached toward it. I let Him take my hand and lead me away from my shattered heart.

I limped at first, but He held me up, half carrying me. The more steps I took, the easier it became to walk.

The light filled me with renewed strength. I began to run, to bathe in the splendor of it.

And suddenly, I realized I was no longer in any darkness. There was no heaviness weighing me down and no pain deep in my chest.

His hands left mine, just for a moment, just to lift something up to me.

Something beautiful, untouched, whole. A new heart.

Love cascaded over me. I felt new life filling me, giving me hope of a purpose and a future. There was no shame left, no guilt, and no pain.

Tears run down my cheeks. I wipe them away, afraid they will mar this page like the one from long ago. I don’t want it to be ruined. It is to be treasured and kept forever, a keepsake, to remind me of all the things He has done for me. I can’t forget.

 

A friend found me. She was sweet, wonderful; her words were full of love and beauty. She spoke of Him, and of glory and goodness.

And she loved me. For me, who I am and what I am.

She didn’t run away from the things deep inside of me. She cherished them.

 

I could spend pages writing about my friend. About how she renewed me each day with her smile and acceptance.  I could write about the others, friends who call me by name and seek me because they want me. There is so much goodness to write about, blessings from Him. I lean back into the trunk of the oak tree and feel its rough bark scrape against my skin. The wind blows my hair across my face so I tuck it behind my ears. How can I write the next part? My heart sings with joy when I think of how He rescued me, how He brought me back from death. Can I ever put it into words? Looking out across the golden fields, into the tree-studded horizon, at the clumps of forest, I see the beauty of the world and wonder why I never noticed before.

Awakening from the darkness let me see how blinded I was to the light that had been shining for me all along. I was never alone. Never left behind.

He was always standing there, ready to show me His power and love. He was just waiting for me to want Him. He wanted me to need Him.

It is only when you need rescuing that the knight is suddenly wearing shining armor.

And now? Now I can stand tall. I have love at my side. Joy in my heart. Peace with my soul.

I am glad to be alive. It will be a journey.

 I am here to live it.

 

I let my pencil fall to the page. It is not perfect. It never will be. Maybe through the years I will tweak it and change it. I will learn new lessons and understand old ones better. Perhaps I’ll even find a better spot to write. But for now, I am content. I drop out of the tree to the grass below. My bare toes sink into the soft ground, relishing the freedom. Throwing my head up to the sky, I close my eyes and let the wind whisper across my face. Warmth from the sun flows through me. Yes, it is good to be alive.

© Pure Grace

 

 

I entered this is a writing contest early this month. Yesterday, I found out I received 3rd place in the 1st category!!!!!

 

Let me know what you guys think of it!! I'd be so glad to hear your thoughts. :D

 

 

Picture Quotes

I haven't done one of these posts in a long while, so I suppose today is the right day. I need a good dose of encouragement right now. =)

 

 

 

 

 

 













 



 

Dancing in the Rain...

Such a downpour we had today... It was wondrous.

I used to dislike the rain. We come from Oregon, where a good 7 months of the year is taken up with clouds and rain and deary skies. Everything is sad and droopy, and very, very wet.

But today I have a new appreciation of the rain. Or perhaps a renewed look at it.

Rain can be beautiful. It calls out a brilliance in things that is not to be found in the bleaching sunshine. It adds dazzling sparkles to otherwise faded leaves. It ripples a friendless pond with tenderness and fun. It slides down a window pain, adding a new dimension to life. You see things as you have never seen them before.

On that note, I have been making some discoveries. Some good, some bad.



I am not so good with putting words together with my tongue. When I speak, everything comes out all a jumble. I say things I do not mean or do not even yet understand myself and feel so foolish. I put words together that don't fit and use phrases in ways that the world does not...and forget that it means somethings so different than I intended.

Just Friday night I laughingly said I was eating Starbursts to get sugar in my blood. I meant I needed energy. I was worn out. It had been a long day. But that is not what that phrase means in this society...and I stuck my foot in my mouth. Again.

Oh, how many times can I think of that I have said what I should not or did not mean to. How many things have flown out of my mouth that were not what I wanted. Or intended. I am not good with words. I feel like Minnie in Lark Rise to Candleford. Always saying the wrong things... In my mind I can meld them together and speak them so eloquently. But when I am standing before a person, it comes down to one thing and I have finally discovered what it is.

It is this deep nervousness that bubbles up inside me, as if what I am about to say does not matter to the person I am saying it to. It goes back to that fear of people which I have spoken of before. Or rather, I called it my desire to be a "people pleaser". In reality, it is this. A fear of  people. Of what they feel. Of what they will say. Of what they care about. Of whether or not they want...me.



I need people. I want people to approve of me. And so I speak in haste, as if to assure myself that what I say does mean something. As if the faster I can pour out my words the more value they have.

What stupidity!

I have come to the decision to stop. I have always enjoyed "speaking". I am not a chatterer. But I have a sprightly personality and I enjoy laughing and talking together with friends. I can hold a conversation with a shy person. And I can listen to a chatterbox.

Still, I am always afraid. That my words are forgotten. Unheard. Unwanted. And so I speak, so quickly, so urgently.

And my words...they mean nothing. They are thoughtless. They are hasty. Oh, how I regret them the moment they have flown!

So I have come to a new impasse, a new moment in life. A new change.

I am going to try to stop. I am going try to think. I am going try to wait. Wait for that moment when I know my words are needed, know they are useful, appreciated. Not only to others. But for myself. I am tired of always feeling a fool for what I have said. What I have muddled up. Because I am talking too fast. I am going to slow down. Listen. And speak when it is time...

I hate frivolous conversations. I hate talking about nothing, about things that don't matter. I hate feeling awkward when everyone is talking about things I don't understand {which is a lot} or laughing about things I don't care about.

I am strange. I admit it. There are a lot of things modern teenagers find so glorious that I could care less about. I am not huge into pop music or most "modern" music. In fact, I have heard very little of it. I do not know actors or actresses and don't "fangirl" anything. I don't rave over cloths or fashion or styles. I have watched very few movies, even popular ones. Or if I've seen them...it would be, oh, when I was ten or so...and I can't remember them.

I don't hate these things. I don't hate people that like {or even love} these things. But I can't share in their excitement and wonder. I can't share their conversations. It is embarrassing. And I feel so left out. So...stupid. Or strange.

I know that is not true. But it is a little true. {Er, the strange part, at least. My ACT score would argue the stupid part. ~_*} I DON'T care for these things. And who doesn't?

I don't know any other girl like this. In fact, sometimes I feel much more like a boy than a girl. I am a Daddy's girl through and through. There are reasons for that, reasons that are hard to admit, that hurt. But they have shaped me into who I am.

And who I am is not something I am afraid of. I like what I am. I like not going crazy over cute boys. I like not not caring if I tear my shirt or grass-stain my jeans or mess my hair. I like not being overly emotional.

It is a decision I have made. But so few people understand it. So few people know it. So few people want to.



Yes, I am different. And people don't know what to make of it. Or me.

And my mixed up tongue only proves to them that there is nothing but bizarre thoughts in my head. I don't make any sense. To anyone. How could anyone make sense of me? Why would anyone want to? I don't know.

But perhaps that is not for me to figure out. What I am is what I want to be. What I am.