The Love of My Life.

I was fourteen.  I wore plaid and polos.  I was horribly unaware, but completely self-conscious.  I had little time for nonsense, I only tolerated my peers when shenanigans occurred.  

He was seventeen.  He also wore polos, and on occasion, a bright green silk tie with his white collared shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  He meant business, and I appreciated his seriousness.

I wanted so badly to talk to him, to know him, to be his friend.  I would take the long way to class just to pass by his locker, in the off chance that he was there. 

I want so badly to be with him, to hold his hand, to hold his heart. I will take the long way around if it means we can have forever together.

is this really my Saturday night?

There is nothing more pathetic than my e-mail drafts folder. Half written notes used as a catharsis for some emotional surge that plagued me at some very specific moments in life.  I'm happy I never actually sent any of them, but they did help while I was writing them.  And kind of like those old diaries that contain silly secrets, I can't bring myself to throw them away.

I think it would be interesting to create a blog using those messages left unsent, those text messages we write with no intention of sending, but really really want to.  I think a similar theme could be found in all of mine: please help me, I'm hurting.  I'm pretty positive that many people would have a similar message.  Sad to think that it will never be heard.  Sad to think some people don't even care.  Sad to think some people can't care because they don't have the ability to.  Sad to think I have time to think of all these ridiculous scenarios.

Of This I am Sure.

"Thank God that this world is the only Hell we'll ever have to know."


Oh that followers of Christ may have this great hope, this blessed assurance that we are not permanent residents of this planet, rather we are merely pilgrims on our way to a much greater destination. Praise be to God.

decisions, decisions.

I have three options for tomorrow:

1. Kill myself.
2. Run away from home.
3. Sob until my body runs out of tears, and I make myself utterly sick.

they all seem pretty plausible in this moment...I halfway hope the inclination for number one decreases because I'm sure I would regret it on Monday morning...then again, next week is finals.