That Which is Inside

     Sometimes I'm not sure why I write what I write...sometimes what I write is rather morbid. This is about holding onto secrets, I supppose.  Secrets that tear us apart from the inside out when we refuse to let them cease being secrets and tell someone; when we refuse to trust anyone with our hurt or guilt or whatever it may be that plagues us.

     Have you ever felt as though there are things that you  can't tell anyone?  And it builds up inside, trying to get out, screaming as loud as it can while you hold your tongue.  It's desperate to get out; you want the comfort of knowing that someone else knows.  But you say nothing and you feel as though it might kill you.  What is inside tries to.  It's desperate to kill you with the knowledge you possess, or at the very least torture you until you open your mouth at last.  Your tongue is bloodied from your teeth sinking into it one too many times, trying to prevent what's inside screaming from turning into your voice screaming out the same words.  The emotions you feel spill out regardless, but they are unexplained as you refuse to tell anyone still.
     The secrets are there.  They are so present and with such great potency that they hurt.  Relief would come in the telling.  But what would come when you received a reaction?  What would anyone's response be to what you hold inside?  Surely none could understand.  Surely they will judge you.  It is not the telling we fear, but what comes after it.  For too many times, people do not understand what it is that we have told them.  Or they don't understand its importance to us and treat it trivially.  Is that just a chance we have to take?  Is it worth it to be rid of the torment within?  Will it rid us of the torment within?
     Our hearts may not last if we hold it much longer.  They threaten to break at the silence.  But there is only silence on the outside.  On the inside are tormented screams.  And if we stay silent much longer, either the screams will come from our mouths as well as our hearts, and the whole world may know what torments us, or the screams will fade to soft whispers that we ignore as our hearts turn to stone and we embrace the distrust of all and the love of no one.

Love Perfected

     For lack of anything better to post, I'm going to put on another poem I wrote a while ago!  Because I don't want to just stop writing anything on here, like I did before. At least this is something.
     I wrote this one, again, in November, 2010. I called it Love Perfected because of the theme throughout of God's perfect love, and how hard it is sometimes to realize that His really is a perfect love. Love in our world is so imperfect, often broken, untrue. But God took what we fail at and perfected it.  He perfected love.

Love Perfected

When my world falls apart,
Yours holds together.
Your world is not my world -
They are different from each other.
In my world I am alone,
Away from You.
In Yours is only love,
And You want me there too.

You want us to unite,
But instead I choose to fight.
Because the love You offer confuses me.
How could I be loved so perfectly?

There is no perfect love,
But Yours seems so close to that.
You died so I could live -
I can't understand that.
This is perfect love.
It's found in You alone - You are the only way.
And although I've chosen life,
It seems I die every day.

If only I would trust You.
But I don't truly trust You.
I know it's my decision,
But I fear I face collision.

I know I cannot truly see
All Your love has done for me.
This perfect love, how could it be
That you would pour it out on me?
I proclaim to follow You,
I'm not embarrassed of Your truth.
And yet somehow it seems so unreal.
Oh, God, teach me how to feel!

I only hold pieces of my life,
The rest I give to You.
I hold these pieces back,
But I know You want them too.
Why won't I give them up,
And let go of this control?
Because I have been hurt,
But You could make me whole.

I must die to my life,
Live only through Your life.
I want to learn to trust You.
I want to give it all to You.

Teach me how to give.
Teach me how to live.
Teach me how to die.
Make me whole inside.

Starting College

     So I'm going to start college this fall.  I started last year, but I only went half time, taking only a few classes each semester.  This year I start FOR REAL. Full time. Living on campus. I don't even know yet who my roommate will be, or if I'll even have one. I'm excited of course, and I made a few friends last year, and I will be so happy to see them.  But this is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life, I think. It wasn't going to be so bad, because my brother was going to be there, and he is one of the best friends I could ever have. But now he has decided to transfer and he and I will no longer be attending the same school.  He'll be living on campus at another school, so we may not even see each other much. Also, a few of my other friends have left as well, and I didn't exactly have that many friends up there to begin with, partly because I didn't live there last year like everyone else did, and partly because of how shy I am.  And of the friends I do have, I'm not even sure if some of them will talk to me (there are a few who I know will, and I'm eternally grateful to them).  So I'm kind of scared, I guess you could say. I know that I stayed with friends a lot last year, so I'm used to staying at school, but it will be weird to not have a certain time that I know, "I'm going home such and such day," because that will kind of be home then.
     I'm going to miss my family once I'm there. I was homeschooled. I'm not used to being away from my family for a long time. I'm sure I'll get used to it eventually, but it will be weird at first.  I'm going to miss my friends.  I wouldn't see them quite as much anyway, even if I wasn't going off to college, just because they would be in school and all, but last year, I still saw my friends at church and such, or wherever I knew them from. Most of my friends live where I live, or close by. I'm not going to have a car on campus, I don't even know if I'll have my license by then, so I can't just drive and go see people. I'm just going to be stuck there.
     And then there is the fact that my parents want to move, sometime in November, I think. I've lived in the same house for sixteen years - for as long as I can remember. It will be strange to live somewhere else. I have to have all of my stuff packed before I leave for school in 24 days, rather than just the stuff I'm taking to college with me. When I come back for Christmas break, after the first semester, I'll move back into a new house. And again, I will miss my friends. I don't know for sure how far my parents are moving, but we won't be in the same city and I'm going to miss everyone so much.
     And I'll be taking five classes this fall, rather than two or three at a time. I think I'll do okay, but it will be different from last year, and very different from the years before that during which I was homeschooled. So I'm a little worried about the academic side of things.
     So, I don't really know what my point in all this was. I think it was mostly to get it off my chest. To tell someone without having to actually say all of that to someone in real life. I'm really nervous about school, and I keep praying that everything will work out alright. I guess it usually does. Somehow. So hopefully it will this time.

Writing, Truth, and Other Important Things

     So my thoughts wander around a lot in this one…I just thought I would warn you…
And also, I wrote this on July 31, but didn't have internet till now, so I wasn't able to post it then.

     Recently I have felt very little need to write, as though I have less to say than I used to.  I still have a great desire to write, but the words simply don’t come.  Perhaps if someone told me something specific to write about, then I would find the words to say and could write again.  But I have not been able to think of anything worth writing about recently.  And yet, I am the same.  And if I am the same, then why do I not feel the same?  Why do I not feel the same need as I used to, and write the same as I used to?  I still feel the same emotions; I feel them just as strongly, and yet the need to describe them is simply not there.

     For a time, I wrote of almost everything – the way I felt, my thoughts; I wrote about people I knew, I wrote about things I did.  I would write about God, I would write stories.  I would write truth and I would write fiction.  And yet, even the fiction was in a way the truth.  For even if the story itself was make-believe, the values behind them, the thoughts and emotions of a character were real to someone – there was someone in the world feeling that way.  Unless something is illogical, it is truth.  Even if it is not completely true, there is truth in it.  That’s the way I see it anyway.  Even if something has been made up, if the values, beliefs and feelings behind it are true, then there is truth contained even in fictitious writing.

     But anyway, back to what I was saying… Although I haven’t felt as though I needed to write much recently, this is something I felt a need to write.  I felt a desire.  And I wrote it.  It’s not the best thing I’ve ever written, certainly not.  But it is writing.  And at this point, I care very little what I write; just that I write at all encourages me.  Though something I do very much wish to write in is my book.  I haven’t written anything probably for a couple weeks.  I’ve done that before, of course, and normally it wouldn’t bother me too much, but I’ve done this so much recently.  I had really wanted to finish it this summer, and I can see now that with only 27 days until school starts, that is not going to happen this summer.

     To be honest, the only reason I write anything like this is to inspire myself to write more.  It used to work, but it has not lately. I enjoy writing it, but I hope as I write that it will give me inspiration to write more, that it will put me in a mood to write more imaginative things…things such as my book.  But lately, it has not worked.  Instead, my mind just wanders from subject to subject and I write it all down and come up with some jumbled mess of words such as what you have just read…