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? 

When what you do clashes with who you are.

I have fluttering thoughts and images I can’t dismiss, feelings I can’t let go, and dreams I don’t wish to give up. There is a completely different person in my head than who I am acting out, a front in for an audience that stares me down, and there are days when I wish they’d all just stop and leave me alone; let me be me without looking. But I am also craving for attention– the kind where somebody comes up to you and talks to you just because you seem interesting and he doesn’t want to let you go before he knows your name. I have invisible watchers in my head and it’s time I let them go.

What happens if the person you are isn’t you? Everybody always said that it’s the actions that define a person but then there’s also the saying that you are who you are when nobody is watching. How can I be a completely different person in my mind than who I am to the world? How can I be so hidden when I am not fine; when I am struggling to be known and to share myself with the world. I don’t want to keep to myself anymore. I’m tired of the clash. I’m tired of losing myself again and again before anybody gets to come close.

Please close the distance between you and me. It’s not that I don’t want you; I’m just shy and scared. I could smile but you’d never know all the emotions that shake my core to grief, to love, and to inflict pain, and I realize that sometimes all you need is a human being to take a chance on you to get you to start on living again.

I need somebody to come help me up. I don’t think I have it in me to do it alone. It’s been too long. I’ve been too long and as usual, I am always too little too late.

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.

Once more it’s a Dead-End

I feel like my life’s going downhill at every turn; and I just wish I could make everything alright again. I’d never admit this out loud but I am lonely– not in the sense that I am looking for any romantic relationship like every hopeless damsel in distress but just lonely that I’ve cut off my relationships with people and ended up with somebody ugly. I can’t find meaning, my innings are empty. I’ve been misplaced.

Nothing in my life’s particularly beautiful anymore, including myself, and every single day I am facing the darkness, waiting for the grace to be free of this; to be free of me and all I’ll never be.

I’ll never be is what haunts me. A lifetime is awfully long when the word never is at its head.

Death

I am thinking about death. And all the little things you would’ve done different if you knew. I am thinking about how unpredictable it is; like death could come knocking at your door any second and you wouldn’t know. You’d skip out on saying goodbye to your mother because you’re late for school, ignore your little sister when she asks to play with you because you’d rather watch television or read or do something else than little kid stuff, tell your brother to go away when he barges through the door because you’d rather be alone. I’m thinking of all the moments I would’ve changed if I knew I’d die tomorrow. I would reach out to my dad for one, and ask him to come home, just so we can have a family dinner once more. I would call all my best friends and all the ones I wished were my friends, tell them how much I admired them and inspired them, all the things I was too afraid to speak out, let them know that without them I wouldn’t know who I’d be. I would lay under the nightsky on spiky itchy field grass and look up at the stars, watching them twinkle, letting my thoughts and emotions rise like the world has stopped moving, like I didn’t have better things to do like homeworks and projects, and feel so small. I would reach out more, to a particular boy, tell him I like him and kiss him under the rain, wanting my chance at love. I wonder about death; the unfathomable kind. The one that enters and takes away, leaving nothing but gripping coldness and ache at the now empty space left. The universe gives and takes and I am afraid I won’t be able to do the things I’ve always dreamed my life I’d be doing: doing the things I love every single day, never held down by insubstantial matters. I don’t want to worry about accounting or theology, about school papers or losing weight or the fact that I don’t know where my future is headed. I wonder about death, and it taking away those who barely had a chance to live, or have lived but not in full. I wonder how it chooses, in random or in kind, a fate that comes to play as punishment or maybe gratification, an end to the suffering at its tail. I wonder about all the people I’ll forget to say I love you to, all the people I’d never tell goodbye, all the secrets that would be buried with me when it’s my time to croak, and all the life that slipped away under my fluttering fingers, a one-winged butterfly crashing, crashing down to the blackout. I think about death– the sad kind of not being able to live enough, and I wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to be taken away first before anybody else gets taken away before me. After all, the only thing that’s worse than leaving is being left behind to face the wake.