It’s not too late to get back on track.

Quit trying to straighten out your life before you give it to God. Give God your crooked self now, and let Him figure out what to do with it. Jesus built a movement on lepers, prostitutes and tax collectors. He can work with what you’ve got, and straighten you out in the process, but you have to be willing to stand before Him, sins and all, and say: ‘I don’t know why you’d want me, but if that’s what you’re asking for, here I am.’ – Unka Glen

It’s post-first-senior-semester and I am wondering on all my life has come to. I feel old, ripe, and rotten. I remember being an adult in a teenager’s body; so mature and wise for my age from all the experiences I’ve been and all the conversations I’ve had with God. So many questions that have already been answered and locked away for me to easily take but now I’m just so lost and lonely and alone; officially an adult but just a brooding teenager inside trying to get my life back and piece everything together to fit the reality I want to live. I have been so lost so long, so afraid of being unfound that all I really do is wait for that bang; the big finish in the middle that’ll let me know that all of this misery and waiting hasn’t been for nothing. But I guess that’s the problem. All I really do is wait without wanting enough, or acting, and I’m trying so hard to fix myself before searching for Him– trying to do everything alone thinking I can do it when maybe it’s time I realize that maybe God wants me broken. Maybe He wants to be given the opportunity to love me as I am and fix all that’s crumbled inside me. If it’s anything I learned, I realized that God doesn’t stop loving you. Even if you don’t love yourself or ignore Him every time He knocks, good things keep coming and so will His love forever. His love isn’t based on conditions, on whether you love Him or not or whether you even acknowledge His presence. I guess it’s the constant and I guess it’s why I’m trying so hard to fix myself without His help. Just to try to prove that maybe, I can do it alone. But I am tired of waiting and of this brokenness. This misery and fear that keeps me hidden in my room, preventing me to experience all the things I have yet to experience. I am 20. I don’t want to waste any more. I want to be the person I want to be. I’m just so afraid of finding everything too late.

I am a sinner and I am broken and I am human but I’m no longer doing this on my own. Each step of the way I’m going to try to offer it up to God. Maybe all God wants is me and it’s time I stopped lying to myself and facing what’s there. It’s difficult looking myself in the mirror lately. So much brightness and opportunity down the drain at the strange face now staring back at me that I have forced the mirror on backwards, just so I don’t have to see. But acceptance is the first step, and I’m not giving up. It’s time I stopped waiting. Here’s to offering myself up and hoping that somewhere along the way I’ll be my very own miracle.

It’s time for me to open.

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God lives.

I wish I believed in coincidences but I don’t. Random things just don’t happen for no reason, and neither are the choices we take. Every inch you move affects the timeline of your life. First look it is small and insignificant but it matters. Every little thing, every detail matters. What you decide to eat for breakfast–whether taking it light or heavy which could affect the rest of your day when your tummy begins making horrible grumbling noises in class with your crush seated behind you, or if it gives you enough energy to stay awake; whether you decide to leave for school earlier than usual, because you don’t want to be late and crash into a road accident on the way, still ending up late anyway. Taking another route, a different direction, a stray from the usual and bumping into old faces, new places, thoughts that emerge from the visions in front of you and the thumping feelings that let you know that you are here, you breathe, you’re not a lost cause.

I received a comment on my previous post from a girl named Adrienne who is also on WordPress (atreegrowsinbklyn if you want to check her out) letting me know that she appreciates the personal contemplations I write on here, which smacked my head because just minutes ago, I created a post feeling low entitled “Nobody really appreciates me” then deleted it right after thinking it was bordering ’emo’ which is the one adjective I hate being associated with, its runner up being ‘sad.’ And of course, as always my thoughts somehow stray on God, even though we aren’t really on speaking terms my heart still calls out to him, waits a while, then shuts Him out again when silence is all that’s there, and here comes Adrienne minutes after, making me think, letting me know what I choose to ignore.

I don’t believe in coincidences. There is a fate– the good kind that comes from the universe and ultimately from the One who loves us most, and there is a beautiful process in the making; sometimes so simple it’s easy to overlook. It’s going to take me a while to get from where I was and move forward but I am certain I will make it somehow, some day in this journey I walk. This wasn’t random, I don’t think, and there is a God trying to tell me something, or cheer me up, or shine bright rays of light on me, dancing stars that shimmer in the dark so I can know I am not alone; that He is out there and He’s never stopped watching; that He is silent for a reason; and that I will never cease being loved. There is a God but as usual here I am, writing this instead of talking to Him. I’m overwhelmed, weak, vulnerable, and ashamed, and I don’t know how to fix me so I can be worth it for Him again. I want to please but right now isn’t right yet. Knock again in a minute, Dad. Knock until I’m ready. Knock 1440 minutes every day, or if you’d rather 86400 seconds that’s okay too. Knock me out until I’m too tired of the hard effort at keeping me shut. They say God does 99% of the work; that sometimes all you need to give is just a little back. So little it’s ridiculous but in God’s eyes it’s more than enough. It’s going to take me some time. Good thing Dads love their daughters so much to hold all the drama and wait it out. They wait until you’re ready to face them and the world again. I am confident God will do the same.

There is a God, and I am a human girl, and who’s to say love cannot exist between the two because in the end there is a Dad and there is a daughter and because of this, everything is enough. Every thing is ultimately love.

Dear God,

It’s the person who hasn’t called you in a while. Please do her a favor and nudge her before she breaks herself. You still love her, don’t you? This is all getting out of hand. Please come in already before she’s gone.

Save her from herself. She’s waiting.

Where are you? 

The Brightness of Possibility

I met a boy yesterday. He set my blood to breathe, produced a thousand fireflies aglow in my gut, a bright ray of light; a shimmer of promise of possibility. He was good, decent, and free. When he spoke it was of up-righteousness; the character of an unwavering gentleman spilling from his lips, kind eyes and that uplifted smile, interested ears and a soul wanting to uncover, to know more, little details of my life that were mostly unsignificant but to him remained interesting nonetheless. It doesn’t help that he’s from Southridge– a new breed of cavalier that stay true to their integrity (most of them anyway). It was an honest certainty that good boys still exist to this day; the kind I always imagined marrying; so decent and so right and so good for me and I to him. It is difficult to stay saintly in this world but it is saintly that I am after– the peace and security that brims fullness of life, of light, contentment and blessedness. I know because it’s what I used to have. In that state hatred couldn’t touch me, nor anger or jealousy, nor even pride. Just love and faith. A God. All one needs to get by.

I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive. I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise. To fly.

That boy brought back hope. He is out there; the man who will be good to me. It might take him a few wrong turns, a number of dead-ends and infinite obstacles but one day all of these will lead to me and I to him. Because of the existence of the boy, I know that surely there must be more out there; enough for me to hold on to one. It’ll be beautiful if it’s the right person and I want nothing short of that. And so here I am, back to the beginning, trying one more time at loving myself and being good so I can be worth it for him too. So please, to anybody listening, be good to people. Give them kind words, caring smiles, gentle touches of concern and care. You could be the one to save them. You could turn their life around.

As a dad once told the whole world to his child, “Settling means giving up. Dont.” Don’t give up on yourself and don’t give up on people. Wouldn’t it be beautiful to have a man who can tell that to your kids; give advice and be the stronghold throughout their life, and of course yours? You are going to find love someday and it will be beautiful and worth the wait. Not yet though. Right now, the universe is pulling strings to make the both of you right for each other, placing struggles to make the two of you better, move with the beauty of growth, wisdom, and experience so when the two of you finally catch a spark that will turn into a fire one day, you will both be strong enough to handle the burns. Most of the time, love is really loving yourself first, patiently waiting and trusting that God won’t fall short of a good man for you. So be good to yourself and to others, and most of all: don’t lose hope. He will come. After all, throughout the history of time, God has never let anybody who believed in His promise down. Your time will come too.

I met a boy yesterday. It was only a short period of time but in that instant, I fell in love with the idea of him but in my man, with the bright future full of nothings but everythings at once and all the best that is yet to come; this time, for me too.

Trust in the process.

Beat the odds.

Three minutes until three in the morning and I have early class in a few hours but here I am, spending my time on what I do best: inspiration. I decided to shed a new light first and foremost in my external surroundings, aka my room since it’s where I am most and printed cut out inspirational block quotes and words. I need a change within me and plenty of people usually say that it begins inside but trust me, sometimes having an outside influence helps a ton.

Time for new changes, beginning with a no longer clean block of wall.

It looks a bit messy but it is art nonetheless. Every single day before I leave the door for daily life, I’ll be struck by the bright colorful cubes of remarks to remind me of the kind of person and the kind of life I can have. Like a friend said, “work on yourself; time will pass by that before you know it, you’re already there– the exact point you wanted to be months ago but never dreamed of reaching.” It begins with an act. And ultimately I realized that it has to begin with me.

Majority of the days I spend lying in bed, crying myself to sleep or fantasizing about better conditions; situations I actually want to find myself in. Little did I realize that I have an entire other life in my head and the actual one I am living is dissipating into concrete waste. Back when I was bright, I had a strong sense of control where I would stop myself from getting worse– the voice that screamed “don’t do that to yourself”; I guess I was my own guardian angel.

Now I’m my own little devil and I’m struggling back to grace, and then I realize that maybe grace has been reaching out for me all this time. Moments when I feel soft knocks in my soul, somebody asking to come in, to let Him take the wheel of what I’ve become and drive me to safety. I hope the knocker never tires for I’m about to budge soon. Do a full on U-Turn as long as I’m moving. I guess all this time, all I’ve really been doing is wait. But it’s time to move. I’ve been waiting for a push or pull somewhere but nothing has come and I’m exhausted on standing by, the dawn burning out. Where is the sense in waiting if I don’t know what I’m waiting on? Where is the sense in being if I can’t be me in my fullest most authentic potential? It’s time I got there.

You're mostly a pain but I love you.

Yesterday morning I wrote the words “Beat the odds” on the palm of my hands. Beat the odds. Three short, simple but powerful words that affects my core. When I feel like giving up and losing hope, when I want to lash out and scream at people I hate, people who have it better than me, people who are blessed to the point that I don’t feel blessed anymore. God, I used to feel like the most blessed person in the world. What happened to that? When I feel stupid and insecure because people put me down, stereotype me before getting to know me so I don’t even get a chance, no kind of love and I just want to crash and burn, crash and burn because they make me think I deserve it, I’ll say it out loud: Beat the odds. It is more than its self– it’s an entire battle cry. A chance, a shot that rises to the sky when you thought all hope was lost: Beat the odds. To be that one in a million; to stand upright even when all of me buckles under the load of resentment: Beat the odds. To do my best when I am certain the result won’t change: Beat the odds. To not give in to all the hatred that fills my brain, the evil eye that skims upon perfection, the irritation that bubbles up at all I lack: Beat the odds. 

Prepare your armor, keep your head sane and your heart closer–it is a fight for freedom already on the losing side but here we go again: You will beat the odds.

Self-misplaced.

Please, God. Please.

My silent prayer to God this morning to come back to me, more me to Him. I am being awful at what I do and I want this over just so I can get a fresh start next semester. No faults or flaws, less damages. I’m obsessed that way. Like the moment I screw up, I want a brand new sheet in front of me, unscathed.

But I am wasting every single day that passes by before the golden time arrives, like all I do is wait for the day to end, sit here and pass time excited for the finish. It’s like flipping through without touching the pages. I am unmoving.

Please God, please fix me.

This cannot be me.

I have no will; You’ve got to move me.

Please God, please.

Please.

After all– what am I without You?

 Nothing, cries the silent beat of my heart.

To the Greatest Mother of all

Dearest Mother of God,

It’s me, Alex. This day, September 8th is not only special because it is your birthday but because it is also my Lola Chona’s death anniversary. I’ve always wondered how my life would be different if she were still alive to watch me grow until this very day; whether she’d be able to guide me into choosing what is right and if she’d instantly know if something were wrong and ask me to sit on her lap, like we used to do every time she saw my face. I can’t help but feel like I was her favorite because she always paid me attention; she always wanted to make sure I was okay. I am happy that you took her away on this special day so that she could be with you in grace and peace and her suffering would stop but what about the people she left behind? What about me? Did I not deserve to have a grandmother to serve as a second mother when I wanted a ‘motherly’ being to talk to? Why couldn’t I feel the love of a grandparent until today? Why couldn’t I have it with me until I grew up into being a teenager and finally into adulthood? Why did she have to leave so early? I can’t help but feel like I would’ve been a much better person if she were around but she’s not and all I’m left with is myself trying to figure everything out, hoping that somewhere along the way I end up doing what is right and best for me. I always thought that when the dead left, their spirits are still there watching over you but not once since she left did I feel her presence. It’s like she’s gone forever. She could’ve helped me, Mother. I can’t help but cry at the loss I feel right now, from growing up without her and losing my way. She should’ve been there when my mom wasn’t. She’s the only one strong enough to talk to me and find out about my life and see through every little thing I put up to keep people away. She should’ve been here with me all this time.

Mother today is your day, and I am sorry for previously sinning at daybreak but today is special and it is yours. Happy Birthday. I’m sorry if I haven’t talked to you in forever or acknowledged your presence. You’re a mother, Mama. You looked after Jesus and raised Him beautifully and righteously and I hope in time, you could be that for me too. Talk to me like God talks to me. Like Jesus talks to me. I don’t only have one family; I have two, and I am hoping you’re all up there and you’re all happy and I am hoping that you love me so much, too. So much that you’ll never leave me even if I falter and forget you sometimes; that you’ll always watch over and talk to me when you see I am sad or broken. Be the light that sometimes I can’t be for myself when I am on the brink of giving up. Be the hope that floats. Be my ultimate lovers. But most importantly Mama, I need you to be my Mother.

Happy Birthday. I will love you so.

I am still here,

Alex