sometimes, it sickens me how incredibly selfish i am. all i can ever think about is how something affects ME, and the fact that i actually have an effect on other people goes way over my head. i've never understood why i think this way. honestly, the thought baffles me. maybe it's from a lack of self confidence, maybe it's a lack of self worth, maybe it's because i'm so detached from myself that i can't see everything that's happening because of me.
i've hurt people in the past because of this lack of insight into my affect on the world. but there's one person that i'm actually aware that i do this to and it breaks my heart. this person is so special to me, so far above me. most of the time i can't imagine how somebody like them could EVER grow to love me. sire, right now, it's not love. my spirit loves theirs, but my logic tells me i can't possibly love them, at least not now. i can understand why, for it is foolish to love somebody you've never even met physically, face to face. but the spirit doesn't have boundaries, doesn't have a shell of a body to hold it back from exploring the world. i feel this is the case. so deep down inside of me, i know i've hurt them because my spirit is attached to theirs.
this is unacceptable to me. some tell me to just break the relationship off and be done with the pain. but the thought of this is even more painful for me to talk about. thinking about them living out there somewhere in the world without me is so heartbreaking for me. and no, i'm not thinking like some psychopath that kills the people they love if they themselves can't have them. i'd just like to clear that up haha. it's more of the fact that they've been in my life now, so i'll always have the memory of them, always have the thoughts of What if...
this all goes back to my selfishness, my preservation of my bubble separating myself emotionally from the world. i never thought i was one of those people who couldn't allow the way they feel to be known, for i've always been one to express everything i'm feeling inside: i feel that if i don't, i'm somehow lying to everybody. but when this person came into my life, i was utterly terrified of what they might find inside of me. i'm not sure why, for i don't have any deep dark secrets, or uncontrollable demons that nobody should ever see. i'm just me, inside and out. they know the demons i struggle to defeat, they've seen them. and what is astounding to me is that they accept them. THEY ACCEPT ME. my mind says What? How is this possible?! well, i guess when somebody cares for you, that's what they do. i know i do with this same person. they say i can't feel the way i do because i don't even know them, that i've never spent time with them. well, again, my logic says yes, you're absolutely correct. then the emotional side of me says i don't care what flaws you have, how you live your life, what you may have done in the past...i don't care because i accept everything about you. i could never turn you away because of the mistakes you've made or the secrets you may carry, because i'm here to share the burden with you. you can pass it onto me and i'll carry it for you forever. i'll cherish everything about you and deep down inside of me i know you'll happily do the same. you've been trying to tell me this for a long time. you've been so understanding and open hearted and accepting. and what have i been? selfish, scared, reclusive, detached.
well, this is ending now. i'm not going to hide anymore. i've nearly lost you before and let me tell you, that was too difficult. i look back now and marvel at what a fool i was, still am even. i just don't know how to change it. i try and try, yet i never get the results i long for. i know i've made promises in the past the i never lived up to. i've said This will get better. yet, none of these things i said actually happened, because of me. so i can understand why you wouldn't believe a single word i say anymore. i can understand why you no longer trust me. i get it and i accept the consequences of my actions. but i will spend my entire life earning back your trust if i have to. i just want you, flaws, demons, and all. everything. these feelings may come on strong, so that's why i've been hiding them. i still can if it's too much for you. i love you with all my heart. in love? no. but love, yes. all i can wait for now is your forgiveness, if you're willing to give it.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Not An Option [originally written for heartsupport.com]
Suicide was my only option. Nothing was getting better. I was failing in school, I was an alcoholic, all I ever thought about was getting high or taking pain medication. All I ever did was eat, sleep, and cut. That razor and the blood it helped produce was my only comfort. My friends were busy, as they rightly should have been. I was proud of them for all that they were accomplishing, but simultaneously I couldn't help feeling neglected and forgotten. My family was distant. They were also ignorant; I kept them that way. I could never imagine showing them my scars and bringing my addictions to their attention. Their love was all I had and how could somebody love a monster like me?
So I formed a new relationship with my razor and bandages. Simply the act of dragging the razor across my skin was a release from my entire existence. Cleaning up was my favorite part, though. In my mind, cleaning up a wound is cleaning up my emotions. I was hurt, so I would bandage everything up and let it heal.
These "cures" of self mutilation, alcohol, drugs, and pills lasted for a time. But always the emptiness, anger, frustration, and darkness would come back, even more intensely than before. My demons grew stronger everyday and I was powerless to defeat them, at least on my own.
So one day (after getting extremely drunk and high, throwing up, and getting even more drunk), I went into my bathroom, locked the door, sat on the floor, took out my razor, and started making careful cuts across my entire body, a little deeper than usual. I cried the whole time, silently. The tears mingled with my blood in a beautiful way, like Christ's tears in the garden of Gethsemane. I was happy and sad, angry and joyful. It would finally be done, over! Yet the dark voices in my mind reminded me of why I was doing this: anger at the world, my family, my friends. Frustration at my own failings filled my heart and mind. Then I realized I was failing this very moment; I was failing my family, friends, teachers, everybody who ever believed in me. I was failing my entire life, right here, on this bathroom floor. Instead of making myself stopped, I started slashing at my arms, legs, and chest. Eventually (I have no idea how much time had passed. I had been completely dissociating) the blood was pouring out of my limbs. My body was numb. My face was drenched from the tears. I went to wipe them away and found my hands had blood on them. Soon my face was covered, and my chest. Admittedly, I enjoyed having my blood all over my body. I felt like what I had set out to do was accomplished.
But then it occurred to me that I was still sitting there in my bathroom. Blood was still flowing. My heart was still beating. I looked down at my wrists: the cuts weren't deep enough. I thought desperately of what to do, but my mind didn't seem to be working. I didn't panic or cry, I didn't do anything. I just sat there and listened to my friends' voices out in the kitchen, down the hall from my bedroom.
Eventually somebody knocked. I let them continue until they persisted that I open the door. See, my friends knew to keep and eye on me. Two weeks previously I had had a pretty serious panic attack. Luckily during that they had stuck by me. Otherwise I would have done exactly what I was doing now.
So, after a while, I unlocked the door, with much effort.
I don't remember much of what happened next. I just remember my two best friends cleaning me up, calling for help, and the police and ambulance coming. One of my best friends had called her parents without my knowledge. When I heard them walk into the apartment, I panicked and started crying; I couldn't let them see me like this, what would they think? I couldn't look at them. I didn't want to see the looks on their faces, looks of disappointment. The police questioned me and the ambulance came. Before I went outside to the truck, I finally looked up at them: they weren't disappointed, they were sorrowful. This stuck a knife into my heart like nothing else ever had. Finally, my own mind spoke up in my head: Danielle, what have you done? At that moment I realized how many people loved me, how many people would miss me if I were to leave them.
*
At this point, I'm going to skip ahead a few months. I'm now living back home with my mother. I'm in an outpatient program at the hospital in Columbia, SC. I'm miserable again.
I never thought group therapy could ever help me, considering I have social anxiety disorder. How could pouring out my heart to strangers relieve my anxiety and fix my problems? At first, it didn't. But then I started having one-on-one counseling sessions with my counselor, Marjorie. These sessions are what really changed me. She seemed to shed light on all the darkness in my mind and heart and bring order to the chaos. She taught me how to identify my emotions and learn to control them, how to interact with other people, how to identify my triggers and cope with them. She taught me the life skills I never learned and gave me the affection I so desperately needed.
After a while, I started to realize that God was working through her. At first I hadn't even considered God in this whole situation, but then it hit me that everything happens for a reason. He had to put me into this darkness and despair in order for me to fight my way out into His light.
During group sessions, the hospital chaplain would sometimes come and talk to us about spiritual matters. I listened to everybody's spiritual struggles, and eventually voiced mine. In my own words I described my frustration with my feelings of loneliness and God's supposed absence from my life. As I talked I started to answer my own questions, as I often do. God wasn't absent, I just wasn't letting Him in.
*
I was raised in a Christian home. Both of my grandfathers were ministers. My mothers parents were missionaries to Brazil. My entire family were heavily involved in their churches and the communities. I thought that all of these things meant I had a relationship with Jesus.
I was desperately wrong. And because of my ignorance, what other path was there for me except one of destruction? I know now that God used that as my jumping off point. He put me in darkness, then brought me to the light. And let me tell you, feeling His presence and love finally in my heart was all I needed to completely turn my entire life around.
I'm still not where I would like to be, but I am happy. I love Jesus and I know He loves me. I tell my story to those in the situation I was in and help them in any way I can. Then I step back and let God do the rest.
I don't claim to have a perfect relationship with God, but that's okay because nobody does. My only testimony is that I was washed in blood and utterly changed. I had suffered my own crucifixion, spilled my blood, and was brought back to life by the Holy Spirit. Now I'm just a disciple walking through life.
I hope this helps those who need help, and enlightens those who need enlightenment.
So I formed a new relationship with my razor and bandages. Simply the act of dragging the razor across my skin was a release from my entire existence. Cleaning up was my favorite part, though. In my mind, cleaning up a wound is cleaning up my emotions. I was hurt, so I would bandage everything up and let it heal.
These "cures" of self mutilation, alcohol, drugs, and pills lasted for a time. But always the emptiness, anger, frustration, and darkness would come back, even more intensely than before. My demons grew stronger everyday and I was powerless to defeat them, at least on my own.
So one day (after getting extremely drunk and high, throwing up, and getting even more drunk), I went into my bathroom, locked the door, sat on the floor, took out my razor, and started making careful cuts across my entire body, a little deeper than usual. I cried the whole time, silently. The tears mingled with my blood in a beautiful way, like Christ's tears in the garden of Gethsemane. I was happy and sad, angry and joyful. It would finally be done, over! Yet the dark voices in my mind reminded me of why I was doing this: anger at the world, my family, my friends. Frustration at my own failings filled my heart and mind. Then I realized I was failing this very moment; I was failing my family, friends, teachers, everybody who ever believed in me. I was failing my entire life, right here, on this bathroom floor. Instead of making myself stopped, I started slashing at my arms, legs, and chest. Eventually (I have no idea how much time had passed. I had been completely dissociating) the blood was pouring out of my limbs. My body was numb. My face was drenched from the tears. I went to wipe them away and found my hands had blood on them. Soon my face was covered, and my chest. Admittedly, I enjoyed having my blood all over my body. I felt like what I had set out to do was accomplished.
But then it occurred to me that I was still sitting there in my bathroom. Blood was still flowing. My heart was still beating. I looked down at my wrists: the cuts weren't deep enough. I thought desperately of what to do, but my mind didn't seem to be working. I didn't panic or cry, I didn't do anything. I just sat there and listened to my friends' voices out in the kitchen, down the hall from my bedroom.
Eventually somebody knocked. I let them continue until they persisted that I open the door. See, my friends knew to keep and eye on me. Two weeks previously I had had a pretty serious panic attack. Luckily during that they had stuck by me. Otherwise I would have done exactly what I was doing now.
So, after a while, I unlocked the door, with much effort.
I don't remember much of what happened next. I just remember my two best friends cleaning me up, calling for help, and the police and ambulance coming. One of my best friends had called her parents without my knowledge. When I heard them walk into the apartment, I panicked and started crying; I couldn't let them see me like this, what would they think? I couldn't look at them. I didn't want to see the looks on their faces, looks of disappointment. The police questioned me and the ambulance came. Before I went outside to the truck, I finally looked up at them: they weren't disappointed, they were sorrowful. This stuck a knife into my heart like nothing else ever had. Finally, my own mind spoke up in my head: Danielle, what have you done? At that moment I realized how many people loved me, how many people would miss me if I were to leave them.
*
At this point, I'm going to skip ahead a few months. I'm now living back home with my mother. I'm in an outpatient program at the hospital in Columbia, SC. I'm miserable again.
I never thought group therapy could ever help me, considering I have social anxiety disorder. How could pouring out my heart to strangers relieve my anxiety and fix my problems? At first, it didn't. But then I started having one-on-one counseling sessions with my counselor, Marjorie. These sessions are what really changed me. She seemed to shed light on all the darkness in my mind and heart and bring order to the chaos. She taught me how to identify my emotions and learn to control them, how to interact with other people, how to identify my triggers and cope with them. She taught me the life skills I never learned and gave me the affection I so desperately needed.
After a while, I started to realize that God was working through her. At first I hadn't even considered God in this whole situation, but then it hit me that everything happens for a reason. He had to put me into this darkness and despair in order for me to fight my way out into His light.
During group sessions, the hospital chaplain would sometimes come and talk to us about spiritual matters. I listened to everybody's spiritual struggles, and eventually voiced mine. In my own words I described my frustration with my feelings of loneliness and God's supposed absence from my life. As I talked I started to answer my own questions, as I often do. God wasn't absent, I just wasn't letting Him in.
*
I was raised in a Christian home. Both of my grandfathers were ministers. My mothers parents were missionaries to Brazil. My entire family were heavily involved in their churches and the communities. I thought that all of these things meant I had a relationship with Jesus.
I was desperately wrong. And because of my ignorance, what other path was there for me except one of destruction? I know now that God used that as my jumping off point. He put me in darkness, then brought me to the light. And let me tell you, feeling His presence and love finally in my heart was all I needed to completely turn my entire life around.
I'm still not where I would like to be, but I am happy. I love Jesus and I know He loves me. I tell my story to those in the situation I was in and help them in any way I can. Then I step back and let God do the rest.
I don't claim to have a perfect relationship with God, but that's okay because nobody does. My only testimony is that I was washed in blood and utterly changed. I had suffered my own crucifixion, spilled my blood, and was brought back to life by the Holy Spirit. Now I'm just a disciple walking through life.
I hope this helps those who need help, and enlightens those who need enlightenment.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Dating Site Woes
If all of this is true, then why not me? God knows, I try. I'm friendly, chatty, and not too overbearing. I'm myself and most people seem to like that. Yet no single guy (emphasize single) seems to want a relationship. Either they're not looking, just got out of one, don't want anything serious, or don't think of me as any more than a friend. Am I one of those girls that everyone wants to be friends with, yet nobody wants to hurt her feelings by telling her they simply do not want now, or ever a relationship with her? God, I remember those girls in school and in a word, they were pathetic. I'm saying it like that because the girls brought it on themselves; they were whiny, catty, melodramatic, and loose. They always complained about how guys didn't want a relationship and they always go for someone else. I pray to God I'm not one of THOSE...
If any guys are out there reading this, please tell me, why? In your personal opinion, tell me why men never want to commit. Tell me why all the good ones are taken. Tell me what the few remaining good ones are looking for. Because honestly, I'm sick of being alone. I can't stand it. I know God put somebody out there for me, I'm just having a hella lot of trouble finding him and, apparently, him finding me. Why can't like just be a musical? Then nobody would be lonely.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
tread lightly always
always keep your eyes on the ground, for you never know where you might be treading. yes, keep you head held so that you may clearly see your goal, but doing this may cause you to tread on unpleasant things. this can be applied to very practical things, such as having bare feet. if you don't look what your stepping on, you may find yourself with a very nasty bee string, or scratches from a very angry cat. this concept also applies (more metaphorically, of course) to how one goes about reaching that goal you are pursuing. you may have a precise crystal clear idea of where you want to go. you map out your route with thought and precision. but if you don't keep your eyes on the ground you may tread on your morals, values, and, most importantly, the lives of others. from a distance you may not see that your carefully planned route intrudes on the space of others, overlapping their own roads. if you reach your goal and look back on your journey, you may find your feet caused a rampage of destruction. angels tread lightly and carefully; they pay careful attention to where their foot falls. is not mans greatest goal to be as the angels?
tread lightly, for these are my dreams
tread lightly, for these are my dreams
Thursday, March 31, 2011
number 4
All throughout my life, I never understood how somebody could love multiple persons simultaneously. It still remains, in my mind, one of the biggest hypocrisies a human being could commit. Furthermore, how unjust to the persons involved in the subjects affections. How are they to know if the love this person has for them will not waver, then fall onto another? I myself have experienced this, and this, I think, is why I now find it so difficult to sustain a long lasting and healthy relationship. It’s not that I mistrust people, by any means. On the contrary, I find that in matters of affection, I’m quite naïve and over willing to pour the deepest secrets of my heart out to a person I’ve only known a short while. So why, in this short life I have experienced, do I have such a skeptical and rather cynical view of love?
I think it all began when I first fell in love. Sure, I had loved others before, but that was only the type of love that is like an explosion. The hormones rage for a while, then all of a sudden, all mutual affection has vanished. This is what I thought love was, as do all young persons of my generation. No, my first experience with love happened gradually. People always say that love at first sight does not exist, that love itself must spring first from pure unadulterated lust. That upon that first sighting, it is the lust for that person that prompts a desire to become closer to them, and only then do feelings of affection and deep spiritual and emotional attachment grow. Finally, the end result is what we call love. But I disagree with this idea that romantic love depends completely on first having lustful feelings for another human being, whether emotionally or physically.
No, my first interactions with this person I speak of were entirely love at first sight. I do not think I could explain how it felt exactly, nor do I think I would want to, for this feeling is so pure that trying to describe it would only taint and soil it. So I will leave it at that.
I loved this person from the moment I saw them. They were always in my mind. What was different about this love, though, was that we two were always entirely honest with one another, sometimes brutally so. I was so heartless with said person, yet I felt no guilt, so remorse, no fear of rejection from them because I knew that our minds were one and the same. I have always deeply appreciated having the truth told bluntly to my face, though I would never let anybody catch on to this amusement to my own faults. I act defensive and throw back the javelin with clever rhetoric and wit. Persons of the same mind as I can always catch the secret laughter in the undercurrent of my cutting remarks. They too unintentionally remark in the same manner. Those who do not understand this manner of banter think of it as pure bitterness, a show of self loathing and a low self esteem on the part of the speaker. But we of like minds know different. Perhaps it is the way our brain processes language that we can detect the small, but completely strong undertones of a word. We know what the speaker is truly thinking behind the mask of their words. And this, I think, we find extremely amusing. It’s like a secret language that only the initiated understand.
But, lo, this person was taken from my life like so many others, at least physically. Yet always after I could feel their presence with me always, like a ghost walking beside me. Memories from the past replay in my mind constantly and if they had happened only moments ago. It’s maddening at times, like a never ending movie reel, or a melody that replays eternally in ones mind. It’s a blessing and a curse. I find small comfort in the fact that though they are not with me physically, their spirit can still inhabit the empty space by my side. Perhaps my immediate and permanent emotional attachment to certain persons enables me to bring a part of them with me when I leave them. I do not yet know if this is a blessing or not.
After that first (and still extremely present) love, I began to develop a sort of fondness for somebody else that had always been in my life, but never played much of a part. It’s like when one discovers somebody they had always known was there, but had never really seen. My experience with this discovery was breathtaking. And by this, I mean literally. It seems that I had laid eyes on this person for the first time. My heart stopped and my body froze. Yet a wave of complete contentedness washed over my being and I felt like nothing could ever hurt me again.
After this experience, this person never left my thoughts, not even once. Always they were there, and as a result my longing to constantly be at their side grew stronger every single day. When I finally attained the few minutes of being in their presence, my heart ached when I thought of the fact that, eventually, I would have to let them go. In preparation for this inevitable moment, I would close my eyes and preserve my time spent with them. It’s like I would condense the entire time (whether it be minutes, hours, or days) into a single concrete moment, then freeze it. After I left them, I could still feels their touch on my arms, their smell, their voice in my ear, and their breathe near my skin. This, I think, is what made my captivity more bearable. I still had my greatest love with me always, and I also had the ever present phantom by my side, echoing shadows of our past.
Still I carry both of these with me, a memory and a ghost. But these comforts wrack my mind and heart with guilt, for I absolutely can not let go of these still present loves from my life so that I may now embrace my happiest of conditions. My greatest companion waits for me, and I do love them with my whole being. Yet these past shadows still hold part of my love so strongly that they have being part of my own spirit. How can I reconcile all of these emotions, all of these different beings so that I may free my spirit from the torment I experience every single day? Nobody seems to have an answer for me.
I think it all began when I first fell in love. Sure, I had loved others before, but that was only the type of love that is like an explosion. The hormones rage for a while, then all of a sudden, all mutual affection has vanished. This is what I thought love was, as do all young persons of my generation. No, my first experience with love happened gradually. People always say that love at first sight does not exist, that love itself must spring first from pure unadulterated lust. That upon that first sighting, it is the lust for that person that prompts a desire to become closer to them, and only then do feelings of affection and deep spiritual and emotional attachment grow. Finally, the end result is what we call love. But I disagree with this idea that romantic love depends completely on first having lustful feelings for another human being, whether emotionally or physically.
No, my first interactions with this person I speak of were entirely love at first sight. I do not think I could explain how it felt exactly, nor do I think I would want to, for this feeling is so pure that trying to describe it would only taint and soil it. So I will leave it at that.
I loved this person from the moment I saw them. They were always in my mind. What was different about this love, though, was that we two were always entirely honest with one another, sometimes brutally so. I was so heartless with said person, yet I felt no guilt, so remorse, no fear of rejection from them because I knew that our minds were one and the same. I have always deeply appreciated having the truth told bluntly to my face, though I would never let anybody catch on to this amusement to my own faults. I act defensive and throw back the javelin with clever rhetoric and wit. Persons of the same mind as I can always catch the secret laughter in the undercurrent of my cutting remarks. They too unintentionally remark in the same manner. Those who do not understand this manner of banter think of it as pure bitterness, a show of self loathing and a low self esteem on the part of the speaker. But we of like minds know different. Perhaps it is the way our brain processes language that we can detect the small, but completely strong undertones of a word. We know what the speaker is truly thinking behind the mask of their words. And this, I think, we find extremely amusing. It’s like a secret language that only the initiated understand.
But, lo, this person was taken from my life like so many others, at least physically. Yet always after I could feel their presence with me always, like a ghost walking beside me. Memories from the past replay in my mind constantly and if they had happened only moments ago. It’s maddening at times, like a never ending movie reel, or a melody that replays eternally in ones mind. It’s a blessing and a curse. I find small comfort in the fact that though they are not with me physically, their spirit can still inhabit the empty space by my side. Perhaps my immediate and permanent emotional attachment to certain persons enables me to bring a part of them with me when I leave them. I do not yet know if this is a blessing or not.
After that first (and still extremely present) love, I began to develop a sort of fondness for somebody else that had always been in my life, but never played much of a part. It’s like when one discovers somebody they had always known was there, but had never really seen. My experience with this discovery was breathtaking. And by this, I mean literally. It seems that I had laid eyes on this person for the first time. My heart stopped and my body froze. Yet a wave of complete contentedness washed over my being and I felt like nothing could ever hurt me again.
After this experience, this person never left my thoughts, not even once. Always they were there, and as a result my longing to constantly be at their side grew stronger every single day. When I finally attained the few minutes of being in their presence, my heart ached when I thought of the fact that, eventually, I would have to let them go. In preparation for this inevitable moment, I would close my eyes and preserve my time spent with them. It’s like I would condense the entire time (whether it be minutes, hours, or days) into a single concrete moment, then freeze it. After I left them, I could still feels their touch on my arms, their smell, their voice in my ear, and their breathe near my skin. This, I think, is what made my captivity more bearable. I still had my greatest love with me always, and I also had the ever present phantom by my side, echoing shadows of our past.
Still I carry both of these with me, a memory and a ghost. But these comforts wrack my mind and heart with guilt, for I absolutely can not let go of these still present loves from my life so that I may now embrace my happiest of conditions. My greatest companion waits for me, and I do love them with my whole being. Yet these past shadows still hold part of my love so strongly that they have being part of my own spirit. How can I reconcile all of these emotions, all of these different beings so that I may free my spirit from the torment I experience every single day? Nobody seems to have an answer for me.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
I'M PROUD TO BE GAY...right?
is it so wrong to be my gay dyke lesbian self? would i sooner go to Hell for being this way than a rapist or murderer? the Bible is thrown into my face. the six single verses condeming those like me repeated overandoverandoverandoverandover...the beautiful psalms and gospels that i so love, that comfort me in the darkness and shed light on my doubts, are completely discarded and thrown in the dust at my feet. they say i am not worthy of the unconditional love of God. i need to be exorcised of my demons. i need to be cured. i need to be ashamed of who i am. i need to shut up and be straight. i need to ignore my pure and natural feelings, push them into the back of my mind, and put on a smile.
it hurts. i want to tear out my hair and scream curses at their self righteous faces. i want to beat them, bloody them, tear them down into nothing, for this is what they do to me EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. only THEY are God's children. only THEY are loved by Him. only THEY can follow in the footsteps of Christ. only they...only them...not i. i am not worthy. i am wrong. i am sick. i am posessed. i am ugly. i am an abomination. i am a mistake. i am sinful. i i i i i i i i i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...
...but what about them? this small quiet question rings through my head...WHAT ABOUT THEM? WHAT ABOUT YOU?! judgemental. hateful. loathing. controlling. angry. close minded. intolerant. insensitive. non welcoming. unaccepting. un Christ-like...?
ask yourself this: what would Jesus do? would He cast me away, He who accepted the prostitutes, lepers, sinners, tax collectors, poor, outcast, despised, DIFFERENT. what would He do?
are you any better than me? am i any better than you? in my opinion, NO. no no no no no no no no!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!! NOBODY is more holy. EVERYBODY lives in sin. and God created me, you, the drag queen, the whore, the dyke, the hetero couple, the outcast child, the lonely senior, the leper, the cancer patient, the sinner, the saint. He loves us all. so go out and be like HIM. that's your goal, is it not? so do it. be it. be LOVE. love.
cast me out. rip my heart out of my body and throw it in the dirt. cut me. beat me. break me. call me names. label me. kill me. "cure" me. spit in my face. slap me. punch me. pull out my hair. burn me. whip me. bloody me. throw me into the water to drown. pour salt on my wounds. flog me. tell me i'm nothing. tell me i'm an abomination. tell me God doesn't love me.
but i KNOW that He DOES. i don't give a flying fuck what you say or think or feel. only He who created me. and someday we all shall stand in His glorious presense, naked and vulnerable. exposed. no lies, no mask, only TRUTH. glorious truth. He will know what is in our hearts. is yours filled with hate or love? which one do you think He prefers?
God didn't make one type of butterfly or one type of flower. the world is made of many colors, shapes, sizes...there are NO straight lines in nature. so why should there be in man?
it hurts. i want to tear out my hair and scream curses at their self righteous faces. i want to beat them, bloody them, tear them down into nothing, for this is what they do to me EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. only THEY are God's children. only THEY are loved by Him. only THEY can follow in the footsteps of Christ. only they...only them...not i. i am not worthy. i am wrong. i am sick. i am posessed. i am ugly. i am an abomination. i am a mistake. i am sinful. i i i i i i i i i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii...
ask yourself this: what would Jesus do? would He cast me away, He who accepted the prostitutes, lepers, sinners, tax collectors, poor, outcast, despised, DIFFERENT. what would He do?
are you any better than me? am i any better than you? in my opinion, NO. no no no no no no no no!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!! NOBODY is more holy. EVERYBODY lives in sin. and God created me, you, the drag queen, the whore, the dyke, the hetero couple, the outcast child, the lonely senior, the leper, the cancer patient, the sinner, the saint. He loves us all. so go out and be like HIM. that's your goal, is it not? so do it. be it. be LOVE. love.
cast me out. rip my heart out of my body and throw it in the dirt. cut me. beat me. break me. call me names. label me. kill me. "cure" me. spit in my face. slap me. punch me. pull out my hair. burn me. whip me. bloody me. throw me into the water to drown. pour salt on my wounds. flog me. tell me i'm nothing. tell me i'm an abomination. tell me God doesn't love me.
but i KNOW that He DOES. i don't give a flying fuck what you say or think or feel. only He who created me. and someday we all shall stand in His glorious presense, naked and vulnerable. exposed. no lies, no mask, only TRUTH. glorious truth. He will know what is in our hearts. is yours filled with hate or love? which one do you think He prefers?
God didn't make one type of butterfly or one type of flower. the world is made of many colors, shapes, sizes...there are NO straight lines in nature. so why should there be in man?
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