What i really want
There’s always a reason to not be good enough, and it’s hard at the end of the day. I need some distraction, beautiful release. Let me be empty and weightless maybe. -S.M
I sat in the pew, four rows back, away from the front of the room. I was in the corner.
And I cried. I finally started mourning and grieving over the third downfall of rain. The storm, it just kept on twisting. A memorial service, and it was exactly as she would have wanted it. Alive. With laughter. With tears.
I hate being passionate. This is what I want, in the midst of all this, I know, wholly, purely, what I want.
I want to not be okay with this, this colossal amount of devastating tragedy. I want to live past the wreckage, the mutilation, the ashes of this current mess/beautiful disaster/fire from hell. I want to NOT be okay with it. But I want live with it, and for it, and because of it.
I want humility to be who i am. I’m sorry for being opinionated, for overanalyzing, for letting you down. For talking when I should have kept my mouth shut. But i'm not sorry for being smart and i'm not sorry for making the choices i have made.
I want to know there is someone out there that will love me and cherish me and will hold me in the midst of my fear and hysteria. I want someone to comfort me through this, someone that understands. I need someone that doesn’t make meaningless promises that they will be there for me. This; it’s madness. I am blinded by emotions here. I’m jumping to unrealistic conclusions, but I can hardly tell what is logical and what is pure emotional reasoning. And now I’m paranoid about it.
My heart is broken in pieces. Life just keeps ending. It just ends, for the young, for the old. Literal life, measured in years, and the figurative, the taking away of innocence. I can’t cope with that, or at least not well. I’m grieving, I’m mourning. I’m not sure what to make of it.
I pour the emotions, the feelings, and the tears on the ground. And I want to just beat and pound the wall and the floor and scream. And than I want to sit in the ashes and try and take in all that was destroyed. And than I want to sit by the river and feel like a normal nineteen year old woman that doesn’t deal with wreckage of human tragedy.
I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know what to do with the grace and forgiveness of God in this. I don’t know how to even fathom Gods comfort and wisdom. I don’t know how love fits, or any amount of logical reasoning. I don’t know. I don’t understand how community fits in this.
But in that specifically, I need to be loved, and it doesn’t seem like anything is ever enough. It never seems like I’m good enough.
And even now, I hesitate, because I’m ashamed. Because I’m sick of being emotional, opinionated, Charissa. I’m sick of feeling like I’m running off my friends. I’m sick of feeling like somehow I don’t measure up. I am incredibly tired of walking on egg shells , trying to convince you i'm not better than anybody else. I'm tired of everyone lying to my face, or not being honest with me about themselves because they think i'm going to cast judgement, i'm not here to level out the playing field. I’m sick of people looking at me, thinking I have it together. I am sick of being afraid to tell people what I’m truly feeling, experiencing, and aching about because I feel like people just don’t want to hear it. I’m not afraid to voice it, and have people tune out, or not really care, or worse still, pretend like they care and not give a damn about it 2 minutes later. That’s why I don’t like talking to people.
Because than people make these ridiculous assumptions about me. Okay not people, my own friends. That I am a certain way. And when I’m reacted to like that, I feel insecure and unloved by them all.
I'm incredibly insecure i guess. Unstable and over emotional. Not to mention a tad bit ridiculous.
So there, I said it, I’m just like any other girl. I deal with same issues we all do; insecurity.
And I’m insecure about myself in relation to all the heartbreaking load of bullshit this world has to offer. Because so much of it is INCREDIBLY devastating. It never is real until it happens to you. You say you care, but you don’t care. It seems many mistake being "educated" about subjects as genuinely caring. It's not the same thing. Talk all you want, but without action, it's all meaningless.
I’m tossing and turning and losing sleep and crying just trying to get through the long days and endless nights.
This is going to sound incredibly selfish, but here I am nonetheless. Why do you care so strongly about AIDS and poverty in Africa, trailer parks in Wenatchee, fashion, fitting in at college, girlfriends/boyfriends and not take the time to pick up the atrocities of your friend down the street?
I’m just trying to deal with all of this, trying so hard to stand on unstable limbs, trying so hard to see through damaged, weary eyes. This has me beat down.
And on a very related note, why do I have this ridiculous expectation that people actually care about any of this? Why do I think for some reason other human beings would care about a miscarried child? Or the death of a friend? Why do I think that? Why do I think that someone would really honestly take time out of their busy schedule and stop and morn and grieve and cry and be with another shattered human being? It’s just this glorified dream i guess. This unrealistic, very biblical, vision.
I need to bathe all this ugly bitterness away. If nothing else, I recognize that. I am bitter. And bitter is ugly.
I just want to be held tonight. Physically embraced. I just want my hand to be held as i cry. I'm tired of crying into a void night. I am just like any other human being, i don't want to be alone. Because to be frank, this is scaring the hell out of me.