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we were caught up and lost

23 Jan

I need to work on things. I need to ask God to change my mind. I focus a lot on sadness and anger–think myself a whole lot more interesting when it consumes me. Hate myself for it and feel hated in return, but being so low and hopeless makes me feel close to the lost or so much worse off, I’m maybe better. I’m almost proud to be so bitter, so hard, so Sad that all the real trouble I’ve spent fighting demons weighs on me heavier than heartbreak at fifteen. And I’m still here, still fighting, throwing my fists at the night pretending there’s nothing comforting about knowing I’ll be cold.

It is sometimes exhausting. I do get tired. Walking down the hill from work, the manufactured strawberry scent of cheap Suave shampoo wafted through an open window of a house nearby recollecting memories from before I was ten and washing my dolls’ hair in the bathroom sink, considering myself cursed even then for the absolute anguish of the conditioner or towel dry that only made it worse, leaving my only option a purple blunt tip Crayola scissor cut. Can’t imagine staying this way forever, but can’t imagine myself cured–completely cured of even wanting the dark a part of me.

I see it in others. Goodness. The real kind. The kind that makes the cold, cold, and the sad just sad. I see it in sweetness and encouragement from Bri, and in the way Malia radiates love and joy, and in the purest kindnesses and hospitalities from Jenna. On them, it’s vibrant and cool and so much Better. The kind I see if worn by me, only dull and boring. A hollow, smiling, empty shell. I need to change my mind.

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