Think About It
It's time for a change. It's time for something new; something supernatural: the appearance of an angel above my bed waking me from a tossing sleep; a lightning bolt striking the very foundation I'm standing on, yet leaving me unscathed; or, perhaps, finding my purpose in life. All of these things sound desirable; but, if they were to happen, who's to say I would accept their occurrences? What if I doubt everything that's to happen?
I need a sign. I need a miracle. I need... purpose. Purpose. I desire purpose more than music, happiness, art, cigarettes, friend, and even more than true love. There are some people who go through life knowing what they've wanted to do from the start; they know what their purpose is, where they belong, what goals to aspire for in their journey. I want that. It is possible that I envy their sureness in this millisecond we call life? Entirely.
When I ask people how they figured out what they wanted to do with their time here, they told me they thought of the things they love to do most. What do I love to do: Write my thoughts. Sing with my heart. Laugh until my sides hurt. Cuddle with someone I love. Dance when no one's watching. Paint with my fingers. Whisper in someone's ear. Scream at the top of my lungs. Draw what no one wants to see. Jump at concerts. Smile to myself. Photograph happiness. Watch people on the streets. Love with all of my being. Where do I go with all of these things? What's there to make from all of this? Please don't say nothing because you'll shatter any dreams that I might have lingering in the deepest part of my mind.
This world is not cut out for me. I want too much from what little this life has to offer. I'm suppressed here. Where's my creativity? Have I lost what means the most to me? We're so impressionable with the things around us. Kids pick up things they see on television. Adults buy stuff they see on billboards or in commercials. Teens do drugs because their favorite actors or actresses did them in a film. We're so impressionable. There's got to be more to the world than this; this world that everyone believes is so great when in reality people commit suicide because the world feels so feeble compared to their dreams. Teens are found dead with a bullet in their head, a noose around their neck, gashes in their wrists, a stomach full of pills, a needle in their vein lying on the floor. Dead. Adults jump off buildings or crash their cars because they feel that no one recognizes what they can do for others in life.
Girls are starved for affection in the most literal sense. They are starving themselves. They are making themselves throw up meals when, really, all they need is for someone to tell them how beautiful they are just as God made them. Why does everyone feel the need to impress? I want to just be me, but I always feel pushed to show up other people.
When I think about others, I think about how unimpressive I am. All these things I think I'm good at are nothing compared to what others can do. I want people to remember me after I die. I want someone to think about me everyday after I've gone away. How can I do this? What will make this happen? I want this search to stop. I want to understand what this all means. God, make it clear to me.
It's time for a change. It's time for something new; something supernatural: the appearance of an angel above my bed waking me from a tossing sleep; a lightning bolt striking the very foundation I'm standing on, yet leaving me unscathed; or, perhaps, finding my purpose in life. All of these things sound desirable; but, if they were to happen, who's to say I would accept their occurrences? What if I doubt everything that's to happen?
I need a sign. I need a miracle. I need... purpose. Purpose. I desire purpose more than music, happiness, art, cigarettes, friend, and even more than true love. There are some people who go through life knowing what they've wanted to do from the start; they know what their purpose is, where they belong, what goals to aspire for in their journey. I want that. It is possible that I envy their sureness in this millisecond we call life? Entirely.
When I ask people how they figured out what they wanted to do with their time here, they told me they thought of the things they love to do most. What do I love to do: Write my thoughts. Sing with my heart. Laugh until my sides hurt. Cuddle with someone I love. Dance when no one's watching. Paint with my fingers. Whisper in someone's ear. Scream at the top of my lungs. Draw what no one wants to see. Jump at concerts. Smile to myself. Photograph happiness. Watch people on the streets. Love with all of my being. Where do I go with all of these things? What's there to make from all of this? Please don't say nothing because you'll shatter any dreams that I might have lingering in the deepest part of my mind.
This world is not cut out for me. I want too much from what little this life has to offer. I'm suppressed here. Where's my creativity? Have I lost what means the most to me? We're so impressionable with the things around us. Kids pick up things they see on television. Adults buy stuff they see on billboards or in commercials. Teens do drugs because their favorite actors or actresses did them in a film. We're so impressionable. There's got to be more to the world than this; this world that everyone believes is so great when in reality people commit suicide because the world feels so feeble compared to their dreams. Teens are found dead with a bullet in their head, a noose around their neck, gashes in their wrists, a stomach full of pills, a needle in their vein lying on the floor. Dead. Adults jump off buildings or crash their cars because they feel that no one recognizes what they can do for others in life.
Girls are starved for affection in the most literal sense. They are starving themselves. They are making themselves throw up meals when, really, all they need is for someone to tell them how beautiful they are just as God made them. Why does everyone feel the need to impress? I want to just be me, but I always feel pushed to show up other people.
When I think about others, I think about how unimpressive I am. All these things I think I'm good at are nothing compared to what others can do. I want people to remember me after I die. I want someone to think about me everyday after I've gone away. How can I do this? What will make this happen? I want this search to stop. I want to understand what this all means. God, make it clear to me.
It's time for a change. It's time for something new; something supernatural: the appearance of an angel above my bed waking me from a tossing sleep; a lightning bolt striking the very foundation I'm standing on, yet leaving me unscathed; or, perhaps, finding my purpose in life. All of these things sound desirable; but, if they were to happen, who's to say I would accept their occurrences? What if I doubt everything that's to happen?