And at the mention of Your name,
Life reenters my body.
What was dormant and unresponsive
Is now breathing and alert.
What was wandering and distant
Is now close and safe.

Bind my wandering heart to You.

Heart Murmurs

I'd like someone to interpret my heart for me, because somewhere along the line from my heart to my head, sensicalness intercedes and steals the murmurs of my heart, leaving them no where to be found by my head.
I can't articulate what I feel. I'm scared of feelings. I suppress them.
Maybe this is finally me being honest, or at least, here's to hoping it will be:

I like him.
He's tall, and broad shouldered, and lanky, just like how I like it.
He has the best teeth I've ever seen, I just want them, however you can have another person's teeth.
He laughs at my jokes, and picks up on my quirks. That's rare.
He reassures me with his words, which is my love language. He speaks it often, speaks it genuine.
He is protective of me, territorial even. There's something nice about being protected.
Almost every time he goes too far, he catches himself and stops. It's so impressive.
He strives to be a good man. Striving is what needs to be there, not 100% success rate.
I feel like he carries everything. When the ball's in his court, he's got it covered. And when it's in mine, he still takes the wheel. I love that. I'm a little tired of carrying myself and other people, maybe I just need to be carried.
I've never second guessed anything I've said or done when I'm with him, he just accepts me right where I am and doesn't ask me to be something else. I don't hide things from him.
He has never, ever treated me in a way that I was unpleased with. Honestly, I feel like he never will either. He's so good to me.
He is patient and devoted.
He gives good butterflies.
I am physically comfortable with him. It feels natural, and progressed naturally from friends to.. extra friends. I'm not scared or intimidated by him.
I like his parents. He likes mine.
I feel like he's in love with every part of me. Do you know what that feels like? To be completely accepted and loved by someone else? Failures, imperfections and weirdness included. It's wonderful. The best, actually. I blossom inside a little every time I say it.
I want him, with me. Us.

You know, I'm not really ok. Thanks for asking.

In an ideal world

I want to be a million things I'm not.

I want to be an artist.
I want to be organized.
I want to prioritize.
I want to get out of bed on time.
I want to sing crazy notes.
I want to have mad piano skills.
I want to be able to juggle my life without dropping everything.
I want to take vintage pictures.
I want to love the flirts.
I want to have time for everyone that's important to me.
I want to listen to everyone's stories without getting distracted.
I want to practice my sax for two hours a day.
I want to laugh and inspire laughter everyday.
I want to go outside more.
I want to work out and be healthy.
I want to give God my best.
I want to know what I want.
I want to be so emotionally strong.
I want to have it all figured out.
I want to stop myself from gossiping.
I want to relate to things I've never experienced.
I want to love. You.
I want to have white teeth.
I want to buy nice clothes.
I want to look my age.
I want to hug the people I care about.
I want to be here when you need me, drop everything and listen.
I want to make time for my parents.
I want to have unlimited patience.
I want to go for walks with God.
I want to read my Bible gladly, often.
I want to write again.
I want to write a song, actually. On piano. And a different one on guitar, with words.
I want to show you my inside.
I want to date him.
I want to feel alive, and vibrant and engaged.
I want to sleep longer than I do.
I want to not want and just live.

They're not going to last forever
But that's ok
Because for now is long enough

There's a constant tug of war that goes on
Between my heart and my head
One pulls feelings and the other points reason
Bashing loudly in either ear

Black and white
Gray and blue
Sunsets glow and stars do too

I'll remember those starry nights
With you and your heart, beating quick next to mine
I'll remember how you'd look away, couldn't look me in the eyes
But how you'd reach for me in the dark, cool nights

And so if it's up to me,
I'm not saying goodbye.
Because I'm not strong enough to
Let these feelings slide


That's all I got tonight, folks.

Essay. Nikki. Nicole.

I think in lists, so I'll list off all the things I love about you:
1. Number one and most important, your love for God's word. I have never had a teacher teach me the Bible with the heart that you do. You have this way of making it real. Even the other day when you played Ruth and told it from first person, all of the sudden Ruth has life. Her muscles hurt from bending down, and she's sweaty from working and she hurts for Naomi, and she has life that she doesn't have on the page. You fill in the blanks, you add the practical aspect to the stories. I consistently forget that the people in the Bible are real, living, breathing people. I see them as stories, but you trample that with interest and a new realness. I love you for that. You inspire me to hunger after the Word like you do. You are honestly unmatched in your love of the Bible.
2. Your eyes. You speak with your eyes a lot. They're big and blue and beautiful, and they're dripping with words. It seems funny, but you can love on people with eye contact. You can say a deeper thank you with your eyes than with your words.
3. You are so talented. So, so talented. You are studious and brilliant. Creative and artistic. Thoughtful and caring. Emotional and real. Honest and direct. You have revolutionized KidsMin into a working, well-oiled machine. God pours out through that building, and you head up that whole process. You do a good job. I love working for you. I have a hard time imagining working in Children's without you. You are KidsMin to me, I've never known anything different. I don't really want to know anything different.
4. I want you in my life. I respect you and your opinions and thoughts. I think you're so knowledgeable. Pretty much I just think you're awesome. Stick around in my life.

I'll remember you and this place and these summers forever Essay. I adore them with my whole heart.

Lives Are Lines

Lives are lines, running parallel, perpendicular, simultaneous, intertwined, knotted, strained, fraying, braided, slacking, continuing...

There's nowhere to run. You can't escape what's inside.

My heart hangs heavy; a sponge, dripping with excess emotion, wrung out in tears of blood.

My love cup is a shallow one, I figure. It doesn't take much to fill it up; an invitation will do, a "hello Amber," a genuine "you're doing a good job," a pat on the back, some eye contact. Being easy to fill up is a good thing, but that also means it's easy to empty. I drain out with lightening speed. The contents of cup are sucked out into a black hole of bitterness and hurt with the avoidance of eye contact, the neglect of a hello, ignorant actions, attention given to someone else and not me - pretty much not being initiated to. If you don't reach out and touch my heart, it shrivels...

Tonight

I dig my fingers into my heart's healing bruises
I push hard on the tender skin
Knowing the pain to come
And finding some kind of pleasure in feeling it
The memories are revived
It surfaces the feelings that have slid deep into hiding

It keeps you alive
I want you alive in my world

I miss you today

and I don't know what to do about it

Questions:

Are all sins really equal in God's eyes?
1 John 5:17 - All iniquity is sin.
James 2:10-11 - For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it. For he who said, "Do not commit adultery," also said, "Do not murder." If you do not commit adultery but do commit murder, you have become a lawbreaker.
Matt 5:28 - But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 
God holds lust on the same level as adultery. 
Each and every sin holds the ability to condemn us to hell, therefore they're all equal. 
Although some sins culturally cause much more pain and problems then other sins, making some sins seem worse than others. 
1 John 3:4 - Everyone who sins breaks the law; in fact, sin is lawlessness.

To research....

Are there different levels of hell?

It's not often that I neglect writing. Writing helps enlighten me to whatever conflicts are colliding in my head and lays them out in some logical manner. And if I can't make sense of my thoughts enough to put them into words, it's not a good sign.. I'll just say that.

Searching Through the Madness

I looked for you in the crowded street. This was our last chance, our only concrete opportunity; potentially the last time I'd cross your path. I had planned it this way, leaving you the option of meeting me if you remembered, if you wanted to. I laughed and walked, window shopping with linked arms. I ordered an ice cream that was too big and had a nostalgic moment in a year-round Christmas store. I angered a customer in the pizza shop and danced in front of the live band. But at the same time, my eyes screened the people around me. They discriminated based on gender, age, size. It was approaching midnight, the madness still running thick and the silhouettes were outlined and highlighted in yellow light. I looked for your figure, I could point it out from far away. Every glare of bared collarbone skin in a v-neck caught my eye and I checked for your face. Nothing. This yellow lighted meeting within the midnight madness never took place, to my dismay but maybe for the better. I want to see you, I want the feelings back as much as I know it's better that they stop. Our relationship is this dangling string, untied and unfinished. We're apart for good reasons, we both know, but the reason isn't us. But it is.

Don't question it, it was always you.


It is always You.

Crystal Shawanda, What Do I Have To Do?

I hear what you’re not saying
Loud ‘n’ clear
I’ve long since stopped asking
How you feel
If I’m ever gonna be
Any closer to you

Oh what do I have to you
To get you
Oh to talk to me
Say anything
Just see me in the room
I don’t wanna be a flower on the wall of your world
Wilting away
How hard is it just
Oh to have a simple conversation
Just ask me all about
the book I read or how my day went
For me to get through to you
Oh what do I have to do

If I thought it’d make a difference
I’d take up golf
And the next time you go fishing
I’d tag along
I’d write it word for word
Across the sky
That if you don’t love me back I’ll die

What do I have to do to get you
Oh to talk to me
Say anything
Just see me in the room
I don’t wanna be a flower on the wall of your world
Wilting away
How hard is it just
Oh to have a simple conversation
ask me all about
Oh the book I read or how my day went
Oh for me to get through to you
Oh what do I have to do
How hard is it just
To have a normal conversation
Tell me about
How your long day at work went
For me to get through to you
What do I have to do
Oh yeah
What do I have to do

Sigh... :(

We are a little baby with cancer flowing through our veins. We are growing and developing while being eaten from within by a vile and destructive force. We are fragile and weak. Everyday, I hold my breath, hoping we’ll make it through, being thankful for the time we have together. It doesn’t look good, the poison’s running deep and painful. I don’t know how long we have, but I still believe in miracles.

You are my wildest dream come true. You are every dream, wish and fantasy I spent months pitifully fabricating. I never thought I'd have the privilege. I will carry you in my heart, in whatever form, no matter where you go.

Don't ask me what 7 years down the road looks like, because I don't know.
All I know is that tomorrow sucks without you.

There they go again, stealing my heart thoughts and makin' 'em songs.

Overboard - Ingrid Michaelson

I could write my name by the age of 3
And I don't need anyone to cut my meat for me
I'm a big girl now, see my big girl shoes
It'll take more than just a breeze to make me

Fall over, fall over, 
Fall overboard, overboard
Fall overboard,
Just so you can catch me

But as strong as I seem to think I am,
My distressing damsel
She comes out at night, when the moon's filled up
And your eyes are bright, and I think I simply outta

Fall over, fall over,
Fall overboard, overboard
Fall overboard,
Just so you can catch me

And I watch the ships go sailing by
If I be the girl will you play the guy
And I never thought I'd be the type
To fall, to fall, to fall

 

You think I'm weak, I think you're wrong

I think I need this in my life

Beauty is how you feel on the inside, and it reflects through your eyes. It's not physical.

Regardless of What Happens

We were two bouncing souls, trapped in high school hallways. We collided and meshed with plenty of other souls, making and breaking relationships that now serve as our past. But then one day, we interacted, and it was as if I had found a kindred soul. A soul made of the same fabric. Someone whose vibes frequented the same channels as mine. All of the sudden, our souls aligned. We walk down the sidewalk, parallel and practically in sync. Our paces differ at times, our laughter too early or late, but something is right. Something inside me feels like it never has before. Like I’ve found someone just for me, someone I like. One time I told him he was the best. He declined it, and now I think he is right. He is not the best, like I had once said. But what he is, is my favourite. He’s my kind of best.
I’m glad our souls finally found each other. That’s a beautiful image: us bouncing for four years, unconnected, and our sudden contact pulls us with extreme force onto the same track.
It’s inevitable, I don’t believe I have to the power to refuse it. I don’t believe I want to. I’m not sure if I should. Regardless of what happens, you are my kind of soul and I love you.

I just want to make you smile.

My Mom searches my face, anything you need to tell me? I say, no, meaning, there is nothing. Meaning, there is boat loads. Meaning, I can’t.

This warms my insides more than hot chocolate, steaming soup and chilli peppers combined.

I’d give you the time of day, any day, any way you want to hear it.


See, like right now it’s 12:02 on a Saturday night in the middle of August, and we’re laying on a beach, just you and me, waiting for someone to ask us to leave.

And now it’s 4:30 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. We’re eating frozen peas in rocking chairs on the porch of our old, white house. There goes our baby girl, down the driveway in the passenger seat of a green pickup, next to a boy she swears she loves. I love your wrinkles.

What time is it, you ask. It’s 8:28 on a Sunday morning. I’m leaving, for school. I don’t know when I’ll see you next, and all I know is to get to you is a 3 hour and 15 minute drive in a car I don’t have. On second thought, it’s not 8:28 on a Sunday morning.

In fact, I believe it’s 7:30 on a weeknight evening. The baby’s crying and you're watching football, I’m half asleep on your arm. I move to get the baby, but you hold me back and go yourself. I watch you walk, as exhausted as I am, from behind and realize I love being in this with you.

Now it’s 9:54 on a Wednesday night. Your curfew’s 10 and we have to make this quick. I’m not breathing, I can’t tell if you are. Here we go, deciding our futures on homemade theories and sparks. 

Precisely.

Strategy

Avoid
Avoid
Avoid
Avoid
Avoid
Avoid

The answer is a simultaneous yes and no.

Goosebumps

If we evolved from monkeys and we get goosebumps, monkeys have to get goosebumps, which they do.
It seems weird that we still get goosebumps, because our lack of hair makes them almost useless, where monkeys with lots of hair find this quite useful.
BUT if we evolved from monkeys, taking with us the gene for goosebumps, should we not also have goosebumps on our face? Which monkeys would based on the hair covering their faces. Is it our lack of hair, or is it simply and purposefully how our bodies are designed that causes us to not get goosebumps on our faces?

I Could

I could act like them
Laugh like them
Look like them
Dress like them
Make you feel like them
Get on my knees like them
Dance like them
Dish it out like them
Suck it in like them
Show it off like them

But I don't
And I won't
'Cause that's what they do

So take what you want
From them
'Cause I swear I'll never be that
For you.

With[out] you

6 Days and not a word
Welcome back, I think
You are air to my lungs
Peace to my muscles
Calmness to my water

I don't know what to do
With you
And I don't know what to do
Without you either

I never felt so tempted by the world. I always thought I was so strong, that I would never give in, but now I realize that I'm incredibly weak. God always seemed like the obvious choice, nothing even came close to His position. If I ever had to choose, I would give up anything for Him. Until anything suddenly became extremely valuable and virtually impossible to tear away from my grasp. Just a glimpse of worldly pleasure and my heart shifted from satisfied to completely desperate.
God placed something gorgeous before me and then asked me to walk away from it and follow Him. And I want to say no, really bad. Almost all of me says, no thanks, I'll take what's in front of me. One, it's gorgeous. Two, I can't find the motivation to refuse it. Three, it's rare. Four, I need it. And God said, no, follow me.
I never had to sacrifice much, besides little things that I was happy to give up. But this, I was miserable to give up. Absolutely, positively wrecked-miserable. Even now that I've chosen God, I'm not sure God will accept my change of heart. Because although I'm choosing Him, I haven't let go and there's a certain amount of disappointment and bitter, angry feelings.
I'm trying to let go. Sorta. I don't know how bad I want to yet. But I want to want to.
It's slowly coming back into focus.

I was reading about the Isrealites. God had done crazy stuff to get them out of Egypt where they had been enslaved. He lead them through the desert with these cloud markers during the day, and FIRE at night. How unreal is that, eh? God was taking them to this "Promised Land." So they get there finally and all these thousands of Isrealites are all hesitant. They decide to send some spies in to scope out how good the land really is. The spies go and find that there is good good soil and fruit that is growing there, the land is fertile and beautiful. But it is inhabited by these giants who are aggressive warriors and are scary. The Isrealites say, no way we can go in there! We're all going to die, this is so silly. We should have just stayed in Egypt!
Wait, wait, wait. God just pulled all these crazy stunts for you! He gave you food all along and kept you safe as long as you were following Him. This is the Promised Land! This is your reward, God said it's going to be wonderful there. Tell me you're not copping out because you're too scared to fight the giants!
God was upset with them for not trusting Him. And when they realized (because God told Moses who told the Isrealites) that they had NO reason not to trust God's leading, they said, "Ok, ok! We get it. We will go and fight because God told us to." But God said, "No, you didn't trust me when I lead you and I will not empower you to fight the giants now. You had your chance." The Isrealites go in anyways, hoping that things will work out, but they don't. The giants chase them out really easily and they fail miserably. God says, "Because you didn't trust me, none of you from this generation will get to go into this awesome Promised Land. I will let the next generation in." Sucks!
I'm scared that this is my situation..
God has a plan for my life. And being God and being only good, His plan is good for me. Something, someone came along that seemed to fit in my plan quite well, and I wanted him there. But God said, no, follow me. Like the Isrealites, I kinda yelled back, "Yah right God! Look what's in front of me. Why would I follow you when it seems better to do what I want?" The Isrealites were too scared to even try fighting the giants, even though God was on their side and was going to have them win all along. And I didn't want to trust God's plan for me, I just wanted what I wanted. I didn't want to sacrifice, or miss out on love. But God's like, "Amber! Listen to me, there is the Promised Land to which I am leading you: I have a plan, and the plan is good. I will make you happy until the end of your life as long as you're with Me and you follow Me." And I said, "No thanks God! I'm happy here. Your way is too hard, I don't want to give up things or miss out on things or pass things up. Let me do what I want."
Somehow, well not somehow. Through what I read in the Bible being convictingly relevant to my situation, through the people around me and through my conscience, God convinced me that this isn't the way to go. And to trust His leading, wherever that may be. Whether it's some gorgeous Promised Land or whether that the worst place on earth, I know I'm only truly satisfied when I'm with Him. And then I remember that God's plan is GOOD, all good. And He's a CRAZY God and does stinkin' wild things. And I want to be on His side.

God left the Isrealites after they decided not to follow Him. I'm suuure I hurt His feelings, and He absolutely should be offended by the speed at which I left Him for something that seemed pleasurable to me. I denied Him and did my own thing, selfishly, faithlessly.
It's not easy, even now. Actually, it's really, really, really hard. I choose God now, because what other choice do I have? When I thought about not having God in my life, I literally saw everything crumble. Life is nothing without Him.. nothing! What would I live for? Why would I do the things I do? What would happen after I die? How would I ever satisfy that hole in my heart? Honestly, I'd probably just give up without Him. There's no point unless you're living completely for Him. Otherwise things are futile, and temporary, and meaningless. And with Him things are purposeful, fulfilling, eternal, uplifting, valuable.
Still working through a lot of things. I feel like someone reached into my chest and is clenching my lungs with tight fists. I can't breathe. I sleep all the time, but not at night. I'm just messed over being convicted of not following God and how He got a hold of my conscience, and also just dealing with the pain of letting go.
But progress is being made. I can see the light.

Good thing God is merciful, eh? Like seriously, what would we do if God stopped giving us chances? I literally panicked when I thought about Him leaving me, not that He leaves people.. The moment He's gone, everything stops. I just need Him. I love Him.

I figured it out. If all the music that's on the radio is about heartbreak and goodbyes, don't listen to it!
Genius. Why didn't I think of this earlier?

I'll just put on some music that sings about Jesus instead. Fill the hole, divert my gaze, pull my chin up.

Don't think
Don't talk
Don't leave

Folly

Desire

Fleshly appetite

Bouncing chemicals contained in coherency

Diffusing from brain to blood stream

Pumping endorphins, hormones:

Motivators to action

Instinctive logic surfaces:

The knack of human foresight

Heed the repercussions,

Foresee the trouble, it hisses

Stealing pleasure and

Instilling conviction

Passion and reason wrestle,

Tangled

Grey

But I say,

Leave wisdom by the wayside.

Folly isn’t for the foolish

Impulses are destiny by inspiration

Take me by the hand,
Take me to the Promised Land,
Never let me go.

It's all in my head
I can't breathe
It's all in my head

I used to sing the sappy break up songs all the time,
Until I got my heart broken.
Now they're not so catchy anymore..

There's something in the water
That makes me love you lots 


Even though I really love you
I'm going to smile because I deserve to

Baby, Don't Hurt Me

What is love? 
Baby, don't hurt me. 
Don't hurt me, no more. 





The scars of your love 
Remind me of us
They keep me thinking that 
We could of had it all



Love is so much less practical than people make it out to be.
You can't choose not to fall in love with the guy that's leaving for Iraq because he won't be around for your kids.
You can't choose to not fall in love because you're leaving in a year and long distance is just too hard.
It bothers me that people live their lives thinking that, as if they are in control of their feelings, in control of who they'll fall far and under what circumstances.
Love is so reckless, so unexpected and consuming. So invasive, uncontrollable and just plain unpractical.

Our Pitfall

I'm strong, you're strong
I'm strong, you're weak
I'm weak, you're strong
I'm weak, you're weak
Pitfall

For just a moment there,
I think I was in love.
For just a moment.

What d'ya gotta say?

Words with grit
That scratch off the outer layer of your skin
Stinging as the rawness glistens with a
Sleek layer of blood and water

Words that stick to your bones
And leave you feeling satisfied as they pass
From top to bottom,
Gripping, sticking on the way through

Words with bite
That don't collapse under the pressure of your teeth
But require you to chomp and mow
And tear and chew to digest the meaning

Words with a pulse
That feed off the reader's vibes
And leap off the page and into your lungs
Breathing life

Words with feeling
That inspire goosebumps, spine tingles,
Butterflies, lightheadedness,
Motion sickness, envy or maybe just 
Action

Follow Your Heart

Follow your heart
Follow that voice inside your head
Follow the Book
Follow your Mom
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Follow your dreams
Follow the North Star
Follow the map
Follow the trail of bread crumbs
Follow the leader
Follow in her footsteps

Follow blindly
Follow boldly
Follow your heart

And if your heart doesn't know where it's going
Then...

Frozen in time
On a piece of glossy card

Your cheek pressed up
Against hers,
The corners of your smiles
Meeting, making one
Continuous
Expression of joy

But your smile is stretched
By some hand that's not your own
Unnatural and tense,
I see your dimples pushed
Exaggeratedly deep
For the desired illusion

Of true happiness

Excuse me, heart. Would you kindly be clearer? Because your lack of conclusion is taking a toll on my everything.

"I've been to Boston. It was my senior year of high school."
"Do you remember it?"
"I don't remember much about the city. I had my first real boyfriend during that trip, and I left him at home. I remember the feeling of really missing him. That's what I remember."



"This song is about running away with my girlfriend. We were 18, and we were in love. My parents didn't understand. They didn't believe that we were truly in love. They thought she wasn't good enough for me. But they were wrong, because now she's my wife."

Craving Powerlessness

I want to be there when the world ends

To be trapped on the boat of humanity

Falling slowly prey to the ocean’s jaws

I want to feel powerless, to feel

Pushed from behind by some inevitable force

That I have no possible way of stopping

I want to look to my left and to my right

And see all of humanity,

Sardined and trapped along with me

It seems that would be the least kind of lonely

To be served the same fate as absolutely everyone

And knowing no one is out there better off than you

I long for responsibility to be taken from my hands

To be handed decisions instead of left to figure out how

To make wise decisions, or to forsake wisdom 

Adulthood is overwhelmingly lonely

You are no one longer attached to anyone,

Parents, friends

I just feel so alone
So responsible
So scared

What Matters

I want to be there when the world ends

To feel powerless as the boat of humanity

Falls slowly prey to the vacuum of the sea

I want to watch their expressions;

All of humanity, simultaneously losing everything

Into the depths of destruction

I want to see

the panic

the regret

the tears

the ones who laugh

the peaceful

the fearful

I want to know if they see it now;

What’s important, what they missed

What they wished their lives had been

I want to create a fake end

To shock people into caring about

What it is that really matters

The world lives in “me” mode

It’s not until “me” is taken out of the picture

That we see it was never really about us

T. Swift

You're beautiful, every little piece love.
Don't you know, you're really gonna be someone,
Ask anyone.
And when you find everything you looked for,
I hope your life leads you back to my door,
Oh, but if it don't,
Stay beautiful.

If you ask my heart right now,
It says yes.

God:

2 Corinthians 6:14
Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness?

James 4:1-5
1What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions^a are at war within you?^b 2You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and cannot obtain, so you fight and quarrel. You do not have, because you do not ask. 3You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions. 4You adulterous people!^c Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God. 5Or do you suppose it is to no purpose that the Scripture says, “He yearns jealously over the spirit that he has made to dwell in us”?

Proverbs 5

1My son, pay attention to my wisdom,

listen well to my words of insight,

2that you may maintain discretion

and your lips may preserve knowledge.

3For the lips of an adulteress drip honey,

and her speech is smoother than oil;

4but in the end she is bitter as gall,

sharp as a double-edged sword.

5Her feet go down to death;

her steps lead straight to the grave.^a

6She gives no thought to the way of life;

her paths are crooked, but she knows it not.

7Now then, my sons, listen to me;

do not turn aside from what I say.

8Keep to a path far from her,

do not go near the door of her house,

9lest you give your best strength to others

and your years to one who is cruel,

10lest strangers feast on your wealth

and your toil enrich another man’s house.

11At the end of your life you will groan,

when your flesh and body are spent.

12You will say, “How I hated discipline!

How my heart spurned correction!

13I would not obey my teachers

or listen to my instructors.

14I have come to the brink of utter ruin

in the midst of the whole assembly.”

One Thing

As soon as I stop looking to God to be fed, and I'm not consistently spending time being filled up by Him, things change. I start feeling lonely and empty, longing for contact and not being satisfied by anyone's. There's this space, void, hole, compartment inside that needs filling , and I started filling it with other things. It's tough to deny such tempting offers, but those things are gone now and the space hurts. And when I relied on You to fill the void, I didn't need anything, anyone. I was full. I was strong. But without you, I am a wandering, unsatisfied and hurting soul. I miss You. I need You.

I will be the one that cries for you.

Hey you! -
With the long hair and the hat. And the beard. And the heart.
I want you.

"I've never seen you like this. You're always so strong. You're being like a weak little girl. This is a side of you that's never come out."
"I know, and that's what scares me. It's different this time, and I'm going to lose it."

When's the Time?

One of these days, I'll decide to be strong. I'll decide to stand up and re-enter the world of logic and reason, of foresight and long-term gain. But in my heart I find no such desire; nothing that allows me to let go or be okay.
How could you be okay? I hope you're lying.
It's disgusting actually, how I'd rather stay in this state of misery if it just means holding on to a tiny shred of hope of keeping you, than to let you slip away and maybe go back to being a happy me. I don't know if it's disgusting actually. I can hardly help it. Maybe this misery is beautiful. Maybe it's not desperate or weak or unwarranted. Maybe it is, I'm not really sure. No, I don't think it is. You're allowed to care and invest in things that are unsure. You're allowed to follow your heart.
True? Then why am I being directed otherwise? But then I trust You. And then I remember how bad it sucks. And then I remember I trust You.
It sucks. I trust You. I trust You. I trust You. I trust You. I trust You. It sucks! I trust You. I trust You. I trust You.








- With all but a shred of my heart.

Flippin' suuuucks.

I don't really want your advice anymore,
No more pros and cons lists
Possibilities and opportunities.
I don't really want to talk about it anymore,
Or think about it, since I've already done more than enough of that.

I just want someone to sit with me
And let me cry my salty tears.
Honestly, I just want you to look me in the eye and say:
"That sucks," and mean it,
Because that's all that's left to say.

I want you..

You and I, we're like an uncontrollable freight train, pushing forward with every force of momentum and nothing holding us back. We are bounding - without grip, without consent and without even a whisper of ever stopping.
Close the curtains and we'll go a lovely shade of green as we get motion sickness from the speed at which this train takes the curves in its tracks, the way it glides alongside gravity down steep slopes. Or maybe we'll leave the curtains open and watch as trees and houses and people and places all blur into colourful lines of undefinition; of surreality and inferiority to what we have created for ourselves. They can be the backdrop of our slow dance, as we rock and sway to the chugging rhythm of the train. Our heartbeats keep perfect, undisrupted time to the most melodic, movement inspiring music I've ever heard.
But within seconds of this fabricated heaven, where every cell of my body asks to be taken, I suffocate. I cannot stand or sing or dance or sway. I cannot move or breathe or speak or be. I have been unplugged, and pulled into a gorgeously alluring state. And don't get me wrong, it is everything I want. Everything I've ever wanted, but its just not what I need.
So I will throw myself onto these cold iron tracks, shivering limply with my heart - spewing broken blood - in my hand. I will be what stops this pulsing train; a sacrifice of pain and flesh and happiness. And though I wanted to forget the tracks, forget the path and the destination and focus solely on falling deeper and deeper into exclusive bliss with you, I can't.
Oh, goodb... It hurts to say.

Goodbye bliss, goodbye.
Come back to me.
Goodbye.
Come back.
Goodbye.


I need Him. I want you. I need Him. I need Him. I need Him. I need Him. I need Him. I want you. I need Him. I need Him. I need Him.

Get Up

I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong.

I
   Am
          Stronger
                          Than
                                     This.

Sleeping is for the peaceful.

Your Jesus books piled miles high.
I don't want your Jesus books or hooks
Or looks or any of that other stuff.
I just want something real and pure.

Smoother than the L.A. weather,

That's how he holds himself together. 

He is colder than the winter, 

I wrap my coat around to better

Counteract his charm attack 

That leaves me hungry. 

Well I'm no saviour, 

But I tried to save you

With all my love. 

He pushes everyone away from him
As he screams for someone to come close.

Why does he do that?
How do we get in?

Take the back door
Break a window
Stand and wait
Knock and knock
Knock, knock, knock
Knees, pleas
Please.


Believe in me, help me believe in anything
'Cause I want to be someone who believes.

So I'll stand by Your truth,
And I'll fight with Your strength,
Until you bring the victory.

E. E. Cummings [Poetry to Prose], Gorgeous.

Feeling is the intensity of life. This being the case, the person who dwells on the reason of life will never be fully engulfed by the passion of the moment, or take part in the full experience of a kiss. This same person will live, forever lacking the entirety of the experience while delicate opportunities prance tantalizingly around them.
So says my lifeblood that pulses in passion, that kisses are a better gratification than wisdom, Lady, I swear by all things beautiful. Don't cry - the sharpest functioning of my brain pales in comparison to your eyelids' even slightest flutter. I could craft the most complex of wordy expressions to say what you can say in one glance: We are for each other. Exploit your emotion: laugh, leaning back in my arms, grazing your free spirited passion against my structured logic. Life is not so structured, there is no formula.
And death will not define anything that happens between the beginning and the end.

This is me, volcanoing

There's not a bone in me that doubts You,
Not a bone, not a whisper.
You have moved too much,
Brushing warm breezes over my shivering skin.
You have carried me; I walk above it all, I swear.
When the ground falls out from beneath me,
I stay completely grounded, steady
Despite the mess that surrounds me.
I live as if I'm constantly drowning,
Constantly overwhelmed,
Gasping for air, waiting for rest,
And yet I'm never taken under the current.

But that doesn't mean things are easy.
That doesn't mean I have all the answers,
Or make all the right decisions,
Or understand how You work.

I won't be spoon fed the "right" answers.
I demand truth.
I expect answers,
And I believe You justify Yourself.
You don't crumble under the pressure of my questions.
All paths point to You
And I'm sprinting towards You,
On a narrow and tight path,
Fighting violently against the things that yank at my wrists,
Grabbing my ankles.
I press forward, resistance or not,
I can't stop,
Won't stop.

And I hope I'm not offending You,
By asking so many questions,
And wanting explanations and justification.
For why You choose to do things the way You do.
"Your ways are higher," the angelic voice sings,
"Your thoughts are higher," it echoes.
Over and over,
Reminding me that You're only good,
And You're not against me.


I want things my way,
And I want them in my time.
My intentions are good,
My heart is right,
And yet Your way and my way
Collide.


I'm angry, I'm broken.
I feel so useless,
I can't help anyone.
I did everything right and it didn't work!


"It's all in God's timing," she says.
"That's crap!" I yell.
I'm sick of makeshift answers,
Fill in the gap answers,
Easy to swallow answers.
Answers to smooth the ripples,
Answers to stop the questions.
I want real answers!

And yet I don't doubt You.
Not for one second.
Not even a little.
I am hitting a wall,
My human mind won't let me grasp it all.
Even that sounds like crap sometimes.

But it's not.
How could I understand You?
Why would I question Your timing,
When You invented time.
You literally control every tick of the second hand
On a clock that holds the world captive.
You can see forever past,
Forever forward.
You see the tomorrow and so You make decisions for today,
When all I see is the now.

It's weird because my intentions aren't wrong,
Even some of the things that are completely in line
With what You ask of me
Are against what You are allowing me.

I feel an urgency,
A lack of time,
I see an inevitable and disasterous ending.
For a moment there, I swear I felt the weight of the world:
Billions of lives going somewhere they'd never choose to go.
And what am I supposed to do about it!?
I'm trying. Oh God, I'm trying.

I feel like my hands are full of fragile lives
And tears stream down my face as I watch them slip through my fingers.
But You remind me,
You speak to me, I know it's You,
Saying: "This is my job. You do your part,
I'll do mine."
"But I am!"
This is where I start to lose my grip.
When I do whatever it takes,
And it takes something else.
When my efforts, my desires,
My tears and sobs
And pleas and hurting knees
Don't equate to results,
To saved people.

I'm not mad at You,
I just don't understand.
I'm just upset that You said no,
And I don't understand why.
And neither does he.

And I'm scared, more than anything else,
I'm scared
That I messed it up.
That I said it wrong, or pushed too hard
Or spoke too soon.
But sometimes I don't have the answers!

I really don't understand this time.
I'm hurting for him.
I'm scared the door is closing,
I'm scared he's slipping through my fingers.
Good thing Your hands are bigger than mine.

And still
I don't doubt You.
I question You and don't understand You
And I want to know why,
Please don't take it as rude, but I want to know now,
Before it's too late.

I don't care if You say no to me forever,
Or take away everything I've ever cared about.
If You steer me away from my dreams,
My desires, my love.
Frustration and anger,
I lay it before You.
I surrender regardless.
You are too big, too much,
Too beautiful and Holy.
There's just nothing I want more,
Nothing that fills the void that needs filling.

Forever, You and me.

Your Ways Are Higher, Isaiah 55:8-11

8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

10 “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
11 so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

I'm Losing It

We are approaching break down territory. 

It's all slipping through my fingers

Grasping at air

Gasping for air

It's all alright with You.

I would give up sleep forever 

Just to talk you through this mess

Just to help your eyes to open

Just to see you come to life

Just to spend forever with you

Instead of apart

I would give up everything for You.
Again and again and again,
Because You gave up everything for me.

As hard as it is to say no,
As miserable as it might make me,
Or as tough as the sacrifice is to make,
I'm making it.
I'm miserable, but I'm making it,
Willingly.

I trust that You'll honor my decision also,
And that Your hand is in this.
Be glorified: be raised to your rightful place,
Be shown in Love and Truth,
Be pointed to and stood by
And chosen.

Ugh.

And to think I fueled that vehicle of evil.

Just For You, Mother

Not another one, I thought to myself as we passed yet another prom dress store.  They are clearly distinguishable, prom dress stores. They are overflowing with dresses of intense colour, colours you could never pull off wearing on a regular school day. The reds are intense, and the blues, vibrant. And they layer dresses with ridiculous colour combinations, like primary yellow satin with aqua blue crinoline. Besides the colours, they use fabrics that are particular to this type of store too. Shiny silks and sparkly sequins beckon shoppers from far away. This must appeal to a large number of people, or else they wouldn’t have 7 prom dress stores in one mall. But not me. In fact, every time I pass one of these extravagant stores, my gaze diverts and my feet trot straight past those screaming sequins. Nonetheless, as we approach the store of ridiculous colours, my Mom begs, “Just one more store. It can be our last one. Just think: this could be the place you find the dress!” Feet dragging and only half committed, I follow her into the store.  

I run my hands along a rack of dresses, feeling textures silky and scratchy. My eyes search the store, but do not stop to rest on anything. A couple minutes have passed when I decide to find my mother; my subtle way of hinting that I’m ready to leave. She’s staring captivatedly at a dress that hangs above our heads. It’s frilly, and beaded, and is made of this wispy, rough material.  And worst of all, it does that ugly layering technique that the store seems to endorse. I furrow my eye brows, “Really?” I ask her.

“Yes. Try it on, just for me. Please?” With impeccable timing, the sales lady strides over to us with a tall pole in her hand.

“Can I get you ladies a dress?” She’s an older lady, with short dark hair. Her clothing is dark and plain, but she wears a bright red lipstick. The expression on her face is lively and eager.

“Yes, my daughter would like to try on this dress, right up here.”

“Sure, what size would you like?”

“Small,” my mother spits out, before I even have time to speak for myself. I trudge to the back of the crowded store, where women and girls are buzzing over the dresses with excitement.  The sales lady gives me an encouraging smile before she moves out of the way to let me into the change room.

I stare at myself in the mirror, with my coat on. My posture slumps as I look at my hair that has become a mess from trying on many pieces of clothing. I remember my unshaven legs and let out a deflated grunt.  It’s never a good idea to go shopping when you don’t look nice; it colours your outlook on every piece of clothing you try. I’m hot and tired, and I sway as I wait for the motivation to try on this dress I already know I won’t like, to come. I nod at myself in the mirror, let’s get this over with.

Once the dress is on, I brace myself for disappointment. I move to position myself before the mirror, hoping to absorb the brunt of the shock before presenting myself to my mother, the sales lady, and all the other women that are bustling around outside the stall door.

My eye brows lift as I take in my appearance. The dress’ colours are conflicting and it is much fancier than anything I would have picked out myself, but it hugs at the waist and accentuates my collar bones in a flattering way. I fix my hair and straighten my shoulders, then turn to look at the back of the dress. “Hmm.” My lips curl upwards and my foot pops in a picturesque pose.

“Are you ready?” my Mom asks from outside the door.

“Yah, I guess,” I say. I unlock the door and step out of the stall. I am startled to see the dark haired sales lady standing where I expect to see my Mom. She lets out a gasp and her jaw hangs slightly open as she looks me over.

“This looks gorgeous on you!” she says, eyes wide. I wonder if they’re paid to make comments like that, and then I dismiss the thought because the compliments feel better when you tell yourself they mean it. I move in front of the big mirror they have outside the change rooms for a second look. My Mom’s hands are clasped in her lap and her expression is pleased.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“Well, it’s alright. It looks nice, but it’s not really my style,” I say. The sales lady is still watching me, and from behind my shoulder she asks,

“What kind of dress were you looking for?”

“Maybe something white,” I say. I am ready to elaborate, but she has already dropped the dress she was holding and gone in search of the perfect white dress. Before I know it, there are 4, similar white dresses awaiting me in the stall. My apathy from earlier has melted into a flattered, soft attitude. I decide to humour the sales ladies, and my mother, by trying on the numerous dresses they toss over the stall door. They coo and they gasp and they squeal and they cluck. They clamp and they fluff and they pat and they pull. Despite my Mom’s hopes and the sales lady’s effective confidence boosting, I leave the store thoroughly amused and dressless.