What I Just Realized

*long sigh* *and an even longer pause*

I have no idea how to start this. I can't believe I let this blog become the place where I hinted at some things I shouldn't have told. The fact that certain people found this blog, well, I'm kind of afraid someone else will, like my mom or something. I almost don't want to post anything more.
But it's gotten to be a habit now, and it's just another place where I can vent and try to find my way back to where I'm supposed to be.

Maybe I should just say everything on my mind. Even if I'm afraid to. Even if I know someone will read this. Even if I know the person and don't want them to read it. I just kind of what to tell everyone everything... and maybe see if they can help.

I'm so sick of keeping everything inside. So sick of wondering why. I'm so sick of being so far from God. I'm so sick of all these thoughts. I honestly just don't know what to do.

I wish I'd never, ever, ever got up the nerve to ask the guy I like if he liked me. That was such a mistake. I only did that because I was desperate for hope, for something to cheer me up. I would've never asked him if that wasn't the case. He's the first guy I've ever liked enough to even ask. It didn't help that all my friends thought he liked me. And all my preppy friends said I should ask him to TWIRP.

Sorry but no, everybody, I said I wasn't going to date until I was sixteen. I think I'm going to keep that little rule I made up. Because, one I don't think I need a boyfriend. Two, I have to figure things out first. Three, no guy likes me anyway.

I wish my grandma would get better, but I know she won't. God is calling her home and all that jazz I posted on my facebook yesterday. She's at peace with it. Heck, I'm pretty much at peace too, I'm just so tired of this roller coaster ride. And the next bump is... is when she's finally gone and I'm missing her like crazy.

I wish my mother didn't fight depression. She takes meds. She's "clinically depressed." You know what, Mom? You commented on my facebook last night saying I'm such a strong Christian girl, and that you were so glad you and Dad raised me that way. Mom, you got three things wrong in that sentence. One: "strong" ha, like I'm strong! Two people keep me strong and one of them you hate. Two: "strong Christian", Mom, I've been struggling with my faith for quite some time now, I ain't nearly the woman of God I was last year. I will always believe in God, but as of now, I just can't get close to Him. Pretending I am, well, that's so our family doesn't fall apart.
and as for you and dad raising me that way... get real, Mom. You two raised me as a Lutheran. God was up way up high and we couldn't get closed to Him. The reason I was ever a strong Christian, a full-fledged believer in Christ, was because of the friend that took me to a Pentecostal church. The very church I know consider my own. You got all that wrong, Mom. I can't believe how much you don't know me anymore.

You probably wouldn't believe your daughter has cut. You wouldn't believe the only reason your "strong Christian daughter" eats is because she doesn't want her too-skinny best friend to stop eating too. You wouldn't believe that your daughter has thought of giving up. You wouldn't believe that one time, your daughter's best friend, whom you "Don't hate", saved her life. You wouldn't believe that my best friend's boyfriend once saved my life. You wouldn't believe that one of the reasons I like the guy I do... is because he also saved my life once. Just by simply reminding me that God was there. You wouldn't believe it if you knew, Mom. You just wouldn't. You wouldn't believe that last night, when we were all staying at Grandma's I almost picked up the scissors... again. But then I looked at a message from my best friend... it told me to stay safe... which meant I couldn't do that. So I grabbed a Sharpie and wrote all my secrets on my feet and ankles. Every single thought in my brain...

"I love you, Grandma."
"I'll miss you, Grandma."
"Mom and Dad, please fix your marriage."
"Best friend, I'm staying safe."
"Markers don't leave scars."
"A, I wish you cared even more"
"If I give up, I'll go to hell, but sometimes that seems better."
"Knowing she'll give up too, makes me less willing to."
"N, thanks for singing to me that one day in bio, it made me feel like I mattered for once."
"M, you're closer to me than a sister, thank you so much."
"S, T, and A, thanks so much for saving me."

Lastly, I wrote:

"Forgiveness will find me, eventually."

I meant... I will find God eventually... I just can't seem to find Him. I need to. But one hand pulls Him closer, the other pushes Him away.

There is one person who is going to read this, one person that I really don't know if I want them to read this. They are going to finally see what's really inside my heart. This monster. When you first met me, you probably thought I was this happy, bubbly girl with a heart for God. That was true. Back then. Now, I don't know what I am. But I'm sure not happy... and the devil has put out my fire for God... I can't seem to relight it. I'm so sorry you have to see this horrible side of me... the real me. The one that's fought giving up for the last month and half. The one who's world keeps crashing in around her. The one who keeps running in the wrong direction and can't turn around. The one too broken to be put together again... the one no one seems able to save... I hate that you will read this... Gosh, I'm so sorry you have to... because knowing you, you'll blame yourself for this... you'll say, if only I would've been nicer when I said what I said... or if I would've said yes. No. Don't do that. Because it's not your fault at all. In fact, all you did was point me in the right direction, telling me to focus on God. And if you hate this, the real me, I'm okay with that. You don't need me dragging you down. I'm so glad we're still friends though. A, I thank you so much for saving my life.

I just got a heck of a lot of stuff of my heart... but it's not all. I don't know what else to put. Considering no one's really going to care all that a much about a mile-long post... especially when it's all about me and my problems... you know, I just wish I could stop feeling so messed up and broken. Stop wanting to give up. Start realizing that people care... And to think only two months ago I was worried about my friends giving up... now they're worried about me... role-reversal much...

I want summer to come. But you know what really sucks about summer....... I have to work. And my mom wants me to work full-time. That means 7-4:30... I really, really don't want to waste my summer like that. I think one of the reason I'm so depressed is I never got a vacation last year. I never got to be a kid. Never got to sit outside and enjoy the sun. because I worked 9- 1:30 and was too tired to do anything. I'm not going to work this summer... no matter what bull my mom says. I can't work this summer. I need to enjoy my last summer as a true kid, the summer I'm fifteen. Because when I'm sixteen I'll get a real job... but for now, I really, really just want to be a kid again... and ride my bike up and down the hill so many times my legs burn, chalk so much on the driveway, I'm covered in it. Make mud pies in the front yard, climb my grandma's tree. Ride a scooter. Run in the grass. Find a four-leaf clover. Play pretend...

That's what I just realized I need... a break.