Wednesday’s Were Always My Favorite.


Is it true that all writers are depressed? All musicians? All artists? All photographers? You know, all of the people in a very creative outlet…I mean it makes sense. The places in my life that have been the most difficult on my heart and emotions have led to some pretty kick butt blogs. Even the snippets of thought that run continuously through my mind sound better after a struggle. Not really sure what that’s about.

I think I made a smart decision last night, leading into just a few moments ago.

Naturally, the largest of my life choices revolve around writing and words. For a while, I’ve known that I’ve loved writing. That I’ve found a passion in it that I can’t obtain in a lot of areas. Last year, my writing was at a huge peak. I started this blog, and wrote my way through all of the pains I was buried under. My words had power, as they were derived from very dark places other people don’t know how to paraphrase. Last year I was still a very, very damaged and scarred young woman. I had a lot to write about, even when I didn’t know I did.

Sometime throughout the transition into this year, all of that seemed to have ceased within me. I became happy. My boyfriend and I got really serious in our relationship, and continue to do so. I made an ambition decision to move in with my brother and sister, and their adorable baby girl. I transferred schools back to a place that once was the very root of the damaged heart I just talked about. I threw myself into numerous job interviews, accepting my first job at a hospital. I have grown more in my faith and as a woman.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have that hard hurt to mask my true heart anymore. That’s actually way more terrifying than it sounds. Such a long time had passed that the hurt had defined me. During that rough period of my life, I was no longer the woman that got up just to see the sun shine. I was the woman that only liked the dark, because the darkness was what had become of my heart. But now, I’m slowly finding my way back to that sunny girl. I’m continuously reminded that I don’t have to be insecure, and that I have every right to be confident in so many aspects. I’m remembering that there’s a time and place in my life for the darkness, and the end of that era is over. It’s almost like I have to remind myself often that the light is here, inside of me, and it’s there for a reason; and to not let the darkness consume me. Not today, not for the next hour, and not for the next few minutes.

I don’t really know what exactly it is that continues to try pulling my heart back towards the lost years emotion. It could be a number of things, and it could be the huge factor of one small aspect. I’m not a psychologist, I’m not a doctor of sorts, I’m just a girl. I’m just me and you would think that after almost twenty one years of me, I’d know me well. I know me well enough to know that something is off, somewhere deep inside.

But, it doesn’t have to be. I don’t have to let one ounce of sadness control me. I don’t have to take things that I’m allowed to be less than enthused about, and let them ruin days. I can choose to be Happy Hannah. I can choose to be optimistic, smiley, bubbly. I don’t have to think that I am less anyone else based on things they choose to share online. I don’t have to talk myself into thinking that I’m not doing enough. I have the ability to be exactly who I am, and endlessly work to transform myself into being exactly who God calls me to be.

Everyday, I may not have faith in my abilities. But I have in God’s.

Today, my faith shines through brighter.




Lectures are Blogging Your Heart Out.


I remember when I was little my mom was sad. I never knew the underlying reasons really, because little kids ‘aren’t supposed to worry about adult type things.’ At a certain point, I was old enough to go through the really hard stuff with my family. From then on I felt it, no longer just be a bystander on the outside of the pain. As an adult I know when my mom is sad. If I’m being honest, it would always make me really anxious to see. Partly because I’m really protective and I don’t like when things are hurting the ones I love. The other part is the selfish and jarred edge part that I don’t proclaim proudly. The other part is continuously angry when I see this sadness in her. It’s just a sadness I thought I never understood. I looked at her life, the parts of her life I was familiar with at least, and saw no reason to be sad. I saw five children, a husband, a job in a field she loves, and plenty of reasons to be happy. I saw the things my oblivious mind has been trained to see over the years-I saw her depravities. Now as an adult, I realize that I’m sad. I’m sad a lot, and I don’t know if I’ll ever understand that.

The same as I did with my own mom, I look at my life and give myself no reason to feel sad. I know that I am well privileged, and that I should almost feel ashamed for the pity party that happens in my mind sometimes. [Sometimes is so much more than I ever want to happen..] I have a great God that watches over me-where I could be faithless and bitter. I have a loving and genuine family-I could continuously suffer from loneliness without them. I have the most amazing boyfriend-SO many life events could have led me away from him instead of God bringing us together. I am a ridiculously broke college student-BECAUSE I’m gaining an education that you’re not supposed to be able to price. I have a car, it runs, and I’m not ever without the ability to get where I need to go-I could be walking, stranded, or unable to afford a car at all. I am about to start an amazing new job-where I truly have no idea how I was blessed enough to be the chosen one..

I look at my life and I know I should be happy, I know I shouldn’t be able to even complain about the most tedious things in my life. However sometimes, I’m just not the happiest Hannah I could be. That sentence in itself literally makes my heart ache. It’s just something I don’t understand.

If there are so many beautiful amazing things in my life, what am I so sad for? Is it because I think the future is immense, with too many options and paths for me to choose from? Am I sad because I live in the frozen tundra, where I get angry when I walk from class to class not feeling the limbs on my body? Is it because I don’t feel absolutely stunning like the rest of the world seems to be? Is it because I don’t have a strong enough faith and relationship with my God? Or maybe it’s because I am waiting for the rest of my forever to finally start…I have given many speculations to myself for the questions in my mind.

Most days, I am great. I’m happy and I know how continuously blessed I am and always have been. I relate these kinds of days with the color yellow. It just makes you think of happiness and positive thoughts. Honestly I don’t think I even really like the color yellow. Maybe because it reminds me of all the happiness I think I lack deep down. Maybe just because it doesn’t go well with my golden streaked hair. I don’t know, you decide-but what goes wrong when the color yellow is involved, right? These kinds of days make me think back to my mornings of getting ready before school. I remember looking out the dining room window to the east. I’d watch the sun come up across the table, streaking the floor vibrantly without fear of the darkness. Those mornings I just knew it was going to be great, like I was unstoppable.

Then there are the dark days. I don’t even know what words to use to describe them. Kind of like in Harry Potter, when the dementors are able to suck every ounce of light and soul from people? #nerd. These kinds of days make me contemplate everything. They make me have doubt in my abilities as a student, a girlfriend, a daughter and sister. The darkness seeps in and reminds me of the pitch black I’ve seen. You would think that after you go through it all, heal, and move forward, that would be it. That’s not what the darkness says though. It tells you that you’ll always be haunted by the scars that you have. No. Matter. What.

Some people can’t understand that because they haven’t seen the darkness I have. But then again, my darkness could be light compared to other people’s pitch black. Don’t think I don’t think about that. I do, I’m very aware of this theory.

It’s like insanity though. Trying something over and over again the same exact way, and still forever expecting the results to be different. Some dark days feel like that. I wake up and I can just feel the chip on my shoulder. I know that my day is destined to be rough. I can tell in my demeanor that I’m going to end up unintentionally taking out this sadness on the people around me. If I don’t take steps to prevent the hurt from taking over, it will dominate my heart.

So how am I supposed to make sense of this? This angel vs devil consciousness splitting my heart. How do I take hold of the angel and see to it that her light outshines anything else? Does the girl that refuses to take any medicine ever resort to taking happy pills? Talking herself into happiness through straightening out her chemical imbalance that way? Does she constantly surround herself with the people that offset her sadness well? With her boyfriend that might not even realize how sad she really is sometimes? I mean it could work, because he just doesn’t accept it. He pushes her, reminding her that she is more-she was God destined to be more-and we will get through this. Because #teamhaven that’s why. Or does she simply just take the time each and every difficult dark moment to pray her way out of the warped shadows?

Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what she would do. But I can tell you that on these dark days, I don’t like being her. That I don’t like thinking I allow these hard days and moments and thoughts to take me over. But it happens, I understand that. I read it all the time on those regurgitated Pinterest block quotes. ‘Sometimes it’s the people that smile the most that are the saddest.’ I crinkle my nose at quotes like that but yet I can’t help but feel there’s some kind of truth behind them. I don’t know. I know I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and I’ll probably be twelve thousand times better than I was today. The odds of that are forever in my favor.

But today, and tonight, I’m just not up to being her. God help me.




Occasional Incongruity of the Heart.


I constantly wonder if I’m truly what you wished to have in a daughter. You told me a week and a half ago that you couldn’t ever wish for anyone more. But did you mean it? Truly? Because then you made a mistake that cost so much, and yet nothing at all. I think it may have cost you your relationship with me though. And neither of you seem to care at all. Why is that? How is it to me that you only love and reach out to those around us who fail you? Why do you only care about those who seem to care the least about you? What is it about our relationship that makes you despise me? What is it going to take? Because I’ll forever be over here looking for you to see me. Notice me. Love me. And yet it’s so heartbreaking to me. You’re the two people who are supposed to offer the most love and support, and it’s such a foreign thought to you. We have such different perceptions of what that even means. Sometimes I think I will be endlessly praying for it. Driving down the road asking God to put Him as the love I constantly seek, and to let go of my longing for yours. Biological or not, maybe it will just never happen. Ultimately, it’s up to God.

Closure and forgiveness. In so many areas, it’s just so necessary. I don’t think it really became so super clear to me the effect it has on my life until literally this week. Harboring these hurt feelings, all of these emotions, has SUCH a heavy burden on my heart. But how does one with such a wrecked and damaged past simply let it all go? I just have to. I have to give it to God, every morning I awake. I have to remind myself that He holds the world. I have to forgive you. I have to let all of the hurt and pain go back to Hell where it all came from. I won’t harbor these bitter feelings towards you. There’s no point. You can’t have that control, it’s useless and undeserved of me to feel. The anchors can be released. Keep moving forward.

Chin up darling, your tiara’s falling. 

The fact that so few people know the such huge things that are affecting my life. Day in and day out. The thoughts preoccupy my mind and heart but such little is shared. A new found person. Where have you been the past twenty years? The day, will forever remain utterly unexplainable. I don’t understand how that even happened or came to be. After such a long time. It’s mind blowing. I can’t wrap my head around how similar to you I am. Such a huge part of my life was forever abandoned. Who says it still isn’t going to be? All I’ve ever known are the stories I’ve been told. Drilled into my mind by the people that thought they knew you the most. But people change. And things change. And life happens when you’re growing up and allowing God to shape you into this completely new person. My biggest lesson from this recent happening? People have the potential to be so much more than you think they are. Let go of the gossip. The ‘truths.’ Let go of cynicism. Trust that God is placing in your life what He deems necessary. That’s it.

Mind blowing. Certain things happen literally out of nowhere, and I can’t explain it. Isn’t it pretty sad that my mind automatically resorts to assuming things will break, hurt, and end. Because of the past and everything I’ve dealt with. Makes me want to snap  myself into focus, and remind myself. Not everyone is going to be painful, damaging, manipulative. It’s not all going to work out the way it always has. Someday, God will have it right in front of you. Did you ever think that He never let it happen until you really gave it all to Him? When you finally surrendered to Him your life, your heart, and the freedom for Him to work within it all? Maybe that’s all it took. Surrender. Que perspective shift.

You have such timidity, and then you have days like you keep having. Great days. Days where you’re continuously smiling and laughing, completely carefree. When you don’t have to try and think about it all. Where it just clicks for the first time in such a long time. Will you let yourself hope again? Will you get in your own mind? Just give it to God. Continuously. Remember again what it feels like to be beautifully free in someone else’s arms.



Praises to God.


Where did you come from? What are the things that make you, you? What has happened to you? What hurts have you gone through to make you a distant person? What is it about you that sets you apart from the person you want to be, the person you wish that you were? Where did your story start? Where is it now? What really happened from then to now? Those blurry lines, those bitter thoughts that just came to your mind, they aren’t from God. But none the less, He’s going to use them. I promise you. He’s going to use all of that hurt. Those deep gut wrenching pains that make you feel dead and empty inside. He will wipe them away, wash you white as snow, and make you overfilled with Him. Where else would you rather be?

Testimony: evidence or proof provided by the existence or appearance of something.

My testimony is harsh. It’s painful, it’s sometimes bitter, and it’s emotional. My testimony is filled with things that have happened to me, along with things that I have made decisions for. At times, it can be extremely hard to look at, to bring myself back to such different times. There’s a person that resided there. She was broken, empty, and lived a life of avoided reason for it all. But my testimony is my story. It shows how I got from where I used to be, to the woman I am now. It shows Jesus. It shows Him being right beside me every moment of my life, especially in my lack of knowledge. He held a protective watch over me, always. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t suffer hurts.

Molest: To harm through sexual contact.

I don’t think any young girl-five, six years old-thinks about molestation. Until it happens to her. Until it’s her family member putting her through something that would later reveal as so traumatic in her life. She knows no better. She knows only of innocent things-playing in the woods with her neighbor, loving to go to school and learn, spending hours in the YMCA pool having a blast. Someday though, she will have to deal with the consequences of the things she knows nothing about.

Sexual Abuse: Encouraging a child to engage in sexual activities. 

It’s more than an action. It’s more than a physical touch. For me, it cuts so much more deeply in the emotional and mental state. When you’re young, you don’t know enough to be mad. You don’t know better than to instantly forgive so you can go outside and play with your friends again, like a normal child. When you are asked such a phrase by someone who you would expect to protect you completely throughout this life, it’s devastating. You’re quite a bit older now, so you have a better grasp on ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ in the world around you. Being asked those words, it makes you second guess and question everything you have ever known about the life you’re living in. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know better than to think people would love you for you? Don’t you see now that it’s normal to do all of this? Wrong. It’s one of the hardest things you will have to get over. But I promise you that you will.

Suicide: The act of killing oneself intently.

Most people walk through their days living out pure selfishness. They know no better, and they have also probably never lost a brother. They don’t know about the deep scars it cuts into your heart. Losing someone you love is difficult. Losing someone you love to themselves, is unbearable. Never getting to see him grow up with you, never getting to say you’re sorry, never getting to say I forgive you. These are wounds that may truly never heal, but will instead be continuously mending over for the rest of your life. They are wounds not many can understand and relate to, and sometimes that’s for the better.

Rape: Unlawful sexual intercourse without the consent of the victim.

Someone you don’t even know and were merely introduced to, someone you have known for many years and have spent years ‘in love’ with-rape knows no relational boundary. Rape is soul stealing. There could not be words out there gruesome enough to explain the ways in which it will make you view yourself. The words don’t explain the way you see yourself as a body, to be used and abused repeatedly. They don’t tell you how much you hate yourself for what they did you to. They don’t tell you how even though you do your best to give it to God, you’ll see yourself in the mirror and silently mock yourself for being so sexually repulsive. Rape will severely distort everything God created beautiful between a husband and wife.

Cheating: To be sexually unfaithful. 

Sex before marriage, there’s the first problem. Allowing yourself to fall into any form of sexual relation before being committed to your husband/wife is setting yourself up for deep, deep failure. You link so much of your past hurts to your boyfriend at the time. You blame him for the things he has done to you. You blame him in part for making your blood boil at the thought that you’re worth more than sex. How could you ever believe something like that, when all people seem to be after is the uses your body can provide-consensual or otherwise. Clearly it makes no difference to them. So you get drunk, off your mind drunk, black out drunk. Are you proud of that looking back now? Do you even remember anything from those three months? You remember that you were unfaithful. You don’t remember how you got there, how it happened, or why. But it did, and maybe it’s better that your memories remain absent. Just another way to prove God was and is forever protecting you. Hiding away any details of the person you let yourself slip into becoming for a period of time.

Catfish: Lure someone into a relationship by means of a fictional online persona. 

These days, it’s the most difficult for people to be honest about who they truly are. The technological advancements our generation has achieved make catfishing such an easy project. You aren’t proud of who you are? Simple, you mask yourself behind a computer screen and a false persona in hopes of getting back into someone’s heart. You don’t understand the fragile heart you’re dealing with, and your actions make sure you never get the chance. Some people will grow to be spectacular, and you will move as God sees fit within your life. Simply, and graciously, as He did for me. Times like these I see God carrying me away from anything that is not of Him. I see Him extend a loving hand to me, welcoming me to something more.

Testimonies are difficult, and they’re supposed to be as such. They harbor so much hurt, locked away for years upon years. So long ago, you had nothing else to say, so you put your words away. Now you know better. You know to place the hurts strictly in front of you, and to give them all to Christ. You know that only He will protect you and your fragile heart. Although I’ve spoken my testimony to a very select amount of people, I find it much more difficult to write it here for infinity. Some people, I’m sure, will be offended or gasp at what I shared from my life. Most people will not fully understand there are so many different parts of healing your broken heart. For me to heal, I need to witness all of the hurts that I have stood tall through by the guidance of Christ. I need to understand only the parts God has revealed to me, and save the rest for a rainy day.

My testimony affects the person I have become. It affects me as a woman of God. It affects the ways in which I love others and love Christ. My testimony is hard, and it takes me to a large amount of dark places and memories. But my testimony does not define me. It is who I once was, to who I am now. It is the blurry messed up lines of everything in between. My testimony is real, and I’ll never complain to God for that.

You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. Genesis 50:20

Nobody else will persevere. God will heal the wounds you feel in your heart. He will endlessly choose to love on as many people as He can. He will hold onto you. But one day at a time, Christ will be endlessly working within you-turning all of your intended harm into beautiful growth. All praise be to Him.

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Thirty Six Hours.


December 20th, 2014

I was told some harsh words by someone who used to mean a great deal to me. It was all super unexpected, and hit me like a freight train. It caught me completely off guard, and ripped open every wound that I held together with scotch tape for the past three years. Never wanting to truly accept the inevitable, never wanting to let go of any control. Shamefully, not even to trust God. I felt I was suffocating, that there was not nearly enough oxygen on the planet that I needed to survive those three seconds of torture.

For many months I felt like I was ripping off the slowest and most painful band aid. Like I’d lose hope completely and rip the band aid halfway. Exposing so much dreadful pain, but still not ripping it off completely. Then I would realize that meant I’d be giving up, and there was no way I was going to do that. I promised I wouldn’t ever do that. So there I would go again, repasting the band aid, half torn and mangled, back on. Each time getting more and more worn and the skin underneath damaged and raw. It was an ongoing battle in my head, my heart, my life. I was so constantly conflicted that I didn’t know what to do with it all but to just let it envelope my entire world.

But those words, those eight words shattered everything I could promise, everything I had hoped to have for what seemed and felt like forever. False hope. I needed to escape. I needed a clean break. I needed something to make it all real and final in my mind, my heart.

So what else does one do in a time of angst but pack a bag and get on the road? So I did it. I left my home at 5:00 pm, and I drove eighteen hours straight to Wilmington, North Carolina. What a crazy idea, what a wild journey, what a rude awakening.

The drive there truly wasn’t the worst. The first few hours passed by fairly quickly. I had a lot on my mind. I had a lot of frustrations and anger about the things that were encompassing my life in the moment. I knew that I sought out clarity, that I truly wanted to know and understand God’s will for my life. How, is the true question and adventure. Once I hit Indiana, things got kind of boring. My family understood finally that I had packed up and left so out of the blue. They panicked, worrying about their baby girl being out in the middle of nowhere completely alone. Little did they realize, that I had the absolute best passenger possible, the Big Guy.

Then things slowly dragged on hour after hour. Pit stops for gas, bathrooms, snack foods, and hugely loud jam sessions to keep me awake. Along with phone calls to my best friend and one individual family member at a time. Each person trying so desperately to understand my cry for help and clear vision in my life. Sadly for them, they had to get in line for any kind of knowledge on what was going on. I claimed that golden ticket long before they hopped on my crazy train.

Finally around noon, I made it to Wilmington. My two purposes of choosing this city were simple. One, I’ve never been to the ocean-sad but true. And two, it was the major filming place of my best friend and my’s favorite tv series, One Tree Hill. Cliche, I know. After grabbing bearings on everything around me, I cleaned myself up, ate something, and adventured. I went around to what felt like a million different important locations from the tv show. Taking pictures to reminisce over with my best friend, trying to get the most out of my mini vacation. Over my six hours in Wilmington, I got hundreds of pictures,  beautiful visions, many provocative glares from complete strangers, and too many feelings of discomfort and confusion.

So what else to do when you get overwhelmed and lost in a place you came rushing to for clarity? You’re more than eighteen hours from home, and you lose your mind. I left. I cut my trip two and a half days short and I headed home. I hadn’t slept for two days, and was honestly but insanely going to attempt the grand journey home. Two hours in, I found myself falling asleep behind the wheel. Every last attempt to keep myself awake failed. Saying I was exhausted didn’t begin to put myself into perspective. I was drained, mentally, emotionally, physically, any way I could have felt emptied, I was two folds over. After talking to each of my siblings on the phone for the first two hours, I lost my mind and I pulled over. I started crying on the side of the interstate, as cars flew past me at eighty miles an hour. Shaking my car and my mind even more intensely, putting a physicality on the way my life felt day in and day out. Out of the blue, who should call to save the day but my momma? In a time like that, I don’t think anyone else could have better understood the words I couldn’t even find in myself to cry. From sixteen and a half hours away, my momma lovins took my hand, and calmly got me to a hotel and into bed to unfurl. And that’s exactly what I did.

In room 107 at the Super 8 in Burlington, North Carolina, I finally let it all go. As I laid down, I felt relief. Then I called a friend for comfort, only to find more pain added to the mountain my heart had just been building up for far too long. Hanging up that phone call, I lost it. I let every emotion go, everything I had been pinning up, shoving away, not allowing myself to accept or face or feel. I felt it all. I cried it out to God, and begged Him to give me understanding. I begged for clarity, I begged for the pain to stop, the bitterness, the anger, the hatred I felt in my heart to dissipate. I begged God for the peace I had been longing for and not truly allowing myself to seek for such a great while. I knew that it probably wouldn’t be instantaneous, but I needed God to know that I needed Him. More than ever I was allowing myself to be completely broken down, shattered, and vulnerable. In room 107 at the Super 8 in Burlington, North Carolina, I cried out to God, and I cried myself to sleep.

After almost two days of not sleeping at all, I stayed in hibernation for twelve hours. Finally I woke up and got back on the road. Eagerly awaiting my sixteen hour arrival home to my crazy beautiful life-my loving best friend, my supportive parents, and my own bed. The drive back seemed to take double the time over the trip there. I guess Passenger had it right, you really do only hate the road when you’re missing home..

After sixteen more hours of endless driving, another long set of continuous phone calls, pit stops, and one distracted speeding ticket, I was finally home around midnight. Another exhaustion spell took me over and I became a lightly snoring rock for the next ten hours. I woke once in the middle of my sleep, feeling the familiarity of my momma. Kissing my forehead and telling me that she loved me. There will never be such other comfort found on this earth than something like that. I was home. I was safe. But in no way, was I the same.

Somewhere along the way, something changed in my heart and in my mind. God gives us the desires of our heart. And it wasn’t until within these eight days later, when I am finally able to wrap my mind around everything I’ve experienced, that I understand. God did grant me the desires of my heart. God gave me peace. After three long and dragged out years of hello and goodbye, God allowed me to let it go. It’s not that I’m giving up. It’s not that I’m breaking my promise. It’s that I’m fully and forever putting my trust of it all into the only hands strong enough to grasp it, the Forever King.

God took this spur of the moment decision laid heavily on my heart, and He used it for the best in me. He allowed me to feel the things I wouldn’t let myself fully feel in the fear of breaking down, of disappointing. In finally letting myself lay it all at the alter, I have found the most comfort yet. I have such a burning desire to live the life God has planned for me. I know it’s nothing like anything I could imagine it to be, but so so so much more. I’m grateful that in my time of despair, among all of the day to day moments in my life, God was there. He was my bodyguard, my road trip passenger, my hope, my true destination all along.

One road trip halfway across the country and back.

One wave of reverent peace.

One Almighty God.

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The Constant Fight or Flight


Along with many, I’ve lost a lot of amazing people in my life. Loss to death, selfishness, heartache and so many more non-comprehendible aches. I’ve lost my grandmothers, an absolute beauty of an aunt, my very own brother, numerous people I thought were best friends, and the person I thought I’d spend my life with-my first true love (besides Jesus, preach it up). Getting back up after being knocked down so hard, so many times is the challenge I face daily. Thankfully, I have the Creator of the Universe to brush me off and wipe away the tears. People get frustrated at me sometimes because I’ve become somewhat of a live in the moment type of girl. Although it doesn’t seem like the typical me who always has plan for everything laid out, I like it. I like it because it’s started opening doors for my life. Truth be told, we aren’t ever promised a tomorrow, another hour, another second. So how do you want to spend yours?

Do you want to be that person that leaves things unfinished? Do you want to always wonder what could have been in your life? Do you want to regret not opening up your heart and being a part of the world around you? I can tell you that I don’t. I don’t want any of that. If there’s one piece of wisdom I’ve learned from losing so many great people, it’s simple–it’s love.

I’ve learned that love is messy. It’s just a big blob of emotion that rolls around in your heart until your head can’t see straight. And sometimes, love is the deepest hurt we can feel, and that’s when you know it was filled with the most truth. Sometimes, love is staring up at your ceiling choking back tears while you’re listening to the same dark song for the four hundred and eighty second time straight. And sometimes love is letting go of the tears, and feeling the ocean tide wash over your cheeks. Sometimes, the most painful and humbling kind of love is sacrifice. It’s letting go peacefully, allowing someone else to experience what you’ve lived out through them. Allowing someone else to bless them with the love only you can understand. Sometimes, love is goodbye; and sometimes love hurts.

The other side of love is like your very first kiss on those beautiful lips. Love is confident and bold, love harbors no fears or doubts. Love is like looking at him while he concentrates and having to hold back a giggle so you don’t break into his mind. Love is like finding home in his arms wrapping soundly around you. Love is filled with such peace as the silent waves crashing to shore over and over. Love never ceases to exist; once it’s there, it’s always there. An unspoken connection shared now with just a smile and the wink of an eye. Love is sticking it out through it all, the highest of highs and the lowest of the lows. Love is thinking about what it would be like marrying him, talking about marrying him, talking about a family. Love is your head saying it’s still unsure but your heart’s already at the finish line. Love is like nothing else in this world. It’s beautiful, and it should consume your entire world. Love should absolutely change your life, and I promise you it will.

I love to love. I always say it and I hope I can say it for the rest of my life. I love being lost in another person, intoxicated by the emotions they flood my life with. I love holding someone close to my heart, being comfortable being vulnerable. I love finding beauty in the small details written intricately through the world’s scenery. This life is insane, there’s no doubt about it. But if you’ve got love, you’ve got it all. Even better is having someone who loves you back, there’s truly nothing like it.

People keep telling me that I’m indecisive, that I’m confused. Please understand, it’s not that I don’t know what I want. I know what I want. It’s that nobody will ever give it to me or make it happen. I want to be out of this world happy. I want to be cherished. I want to have someone’s heart and attention the way I give mine out. I want someone to truly love, adore, and honor me so much they couldn’t stand seeing me hurt. I want someone to fricking sweep me off my feet and love the crap out of me!! I do deserve it. I have this one heart, this one heart with all of this joy, happiness, and love festering up and its ready to just explode. And nobody makes it worth giving it all to. I want to get married. I want to start and raise a family with someone. I’m ready for that life. I have been for a while. But my other half, whomever he may be (poor soul), he isn’t ready. And sometimes it feels like there is no other half to finally make me whole. Like there’s nobody else on this planet ready to love me back. Ready to take control and be my stinkin person! Nobody can do that! And so apparently it’s just impossible to love me. When are you going to just stop and notice me?

So this is my question: is it you, me, or something else?

I’ve had this feeling for a little bit that it’s me. That there must be something wrong with me to where it just hasn’t worked out by now. I know, I know, I’m still so young. Yes, I’m young, I’m very young. But there should really be no excuse when the opportunities have more than presented themselves to be loved. To be adored, to be to love someone who loves me back so deeply. So it comes down to something else, something I guess I just don’t understand. It could be you. But if it’s you, it’s you like four times over. What are the odds of that one happening? So then what? What else could it be? Why don’t I get to feel as treasured as the person I seek?

Why do people only love you when you leave3fd0f13aecdf7fcd510c16161a5ebc3b cd1c4c65129cf6d3eac02b46f1d23959 3e5a700d3d6c71bc2a40c47bdb4221ec e7a8abc17ef69893e2cfbfbf5bdc7f1d

Burning Scars


Life is filled with pain, filled with damaged people, filled with hurts. What does it mean if we let all of that define us? What does it mean if we don’t?

The greatest sorrow in my life happened March 9th of my seventh grade year in school. I’ll always remember the small details that shouldn’t really matter I guess, in the grand scheme of things. Having a girl’s weekend with my family and the girl I thought was my best friend. I remember the mini photo shoot us gals had that morning, just being goofy as always. I remember the pile of dishes that cluttered the kitchen that we hadn’t gotten around to yet. I remember Dad in the garage working on the car. Mom got the call in the mid morning. The scream in her voice piercing my ears, filled with pain and fear. My brother had committed suicide.

Who knew you could feel such a darkness in your life, and for so long? Who knew how cold your heart could be? I found out. Just how much it would always hurt. How empty you could feel inside. It completely shattered my life-leaving me damaged, broken, and forever changed. The pain will be never ending and all consuming. Going through the teenage years is hard enough, let alone losing your brother within the earliest beginning of it all. It has impacted my every thought for a long time. It changed the way I viewed things, especially my own life and it’s worth.

You think the way you handle something like that is normal. You think hurting yourself is normal. You think it’s a pain you can control, nobody else can inflict it on you or take it away from you. It’s brutal, it’s the only pain that can give you escape. You’ll never forget how it felt having a razor to your skin. The burn may fade from your arm, but never from the depths of your heart. Those scars, they will never go away-forever marking the surface of my skin. Forever branding me as a once broken teenager. Joke’s on the world though. It’s been eight years and as an adult I’m still just as damaged and broken over this. It pierces the heart just as badly as the moment it entered into reality.

Things will never be the same. I will never look at Dad without remembering the third time I’ve ever seen him cry in my life. I will never forget all of the stupid things we did as kids. I’ll never let you live down the seventeen stitches scar across my right hip that was all thanks to your own brilliance. I will never miss you any less than I did the second things went wrong. I will never be able to tell you all of the things I need to say. I will never be able to talk it all out with you. You’ll never grow old with us, never make fun of Mom and Dad getting old-ER with the rest of us kids. You won’t get to see us all get married, or marry yourself. I’ll never get to tell you how important you are or how much we love you. Nobody else can play your part.

Nothing will make you appreciate your life and the happiness you have the opportunity to live out than losing the people close to you. I miss you. I wish you could’ve seen me grow into a woman, and drop the young girl act that gets so old. I know you watch over me everyday, and I’m going to be grateful forever for that. It’d just be so amazing to have you here. I’d give anything to be picked on by my brother just one more time.

I’m never going to understand; I mean I get it. That pain. The kind of pain where you feel like you’re heart is already ripped out of your chest and pulsing in your grip. So what’s the point of tricking yourself into thinking it’s still a part of you? Right? I get it, because years later I went through that pain. It suffocated me, it did more than consume me, it burrowed itself deep in my soul. It’s here, always, in the back of my mind. It’s easy to joke around about, everyone has their ’emo days’ right? It’s more than that though. It’s a never-ending, never understandable ache in your soul. Maybe that’s just what happens when you go through life. Maybe everyone has their pain tucked away so deep that the smiling reflection blinds the tears. Maybe we just get good at covering it up. I get it, but I’ll never understand. I know that God has a plan for everyone, I know God had a better plan for you than I could imagine. I get it, I promise I do. I just don’t understand why it had to be you.

Tell me the pain’s over. Tell me it’s alright. Tell me it’s better.

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