I Don’t Want to Live in This World

I hate this world that I’ve created.

I hate that I moved across the country with big dreams, none of them being fulfilled.  They’ve been destroyed so much that I’ve let them go altogether.  I don’t even write anymore.  I probably don’t even exist anymore.

I hate that I moved to the south and have encountered far more entitled people than I ever did living in a resort town.  I hate that I feel that I can do nothing right.  I hate that I don’t have anyone to depend on, so I’ve learned to depend on myself.  I hate that my heart aches for a church like the one I left behind.  I  hate that I can’t find that here.  I hate that every promotion brings more misery, instead of confidence.  I hate that I complain so often.  I hate that I’m depressed.

I miss my home.  I miss my family.  I miss my friends.  I miss my mom.  If I had known that moving here would mean losing her, I never would have come.  I miss that she made me empowered.  I wish that I had appreciated it while she was around.

I don’t want to be alive in this world anymore.  I know it’s supposed to get better.  I know it always has gotten better.  But I don’t like the in between.  I don’t like that I’m in the in between again.  I don’t like that I’ve gotten so lost, that I’ve disappeared completely.

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Perfect

It is really hard to be perfect
Even if I was made that way
I really wasn’t made that way
Born too soon into a broken reality
Everyone’s eyesight is skewed
And mine is too

Perfection isn’t what I strive for
Because I know I’m more than mediocre
I am more than meets the eyes
Every single time

I feel lost in a mess
Where I’m trying too hard to impress
Everyone around me who can judge
And then they do judge
And judgments will always find the imperfections

I don’t want to be flawed or broken
But that’s the world I was born into
We are all flawed and broken
Constantly striving to be more than
Always feeling less than
Perfect

Waste of Time

You can watch the grass grow
And be lost in it
You can be broken by overwhelming love
You can spend years just wasting your time
But it’s not a wast of time at all

He teaches you to chase
And to be chased
He chases you as you follow him
And every time you fall apart
He puts together all your pieces

So wast your time here
Dedicate your minutes
Dedicate your hours
Know him
Know yourself
Fall in love again

Remember when he called you?
Remember who you were?
You can be that again
It never was just a waste of time

Why hate Mary?

I walked out of my apartment the other day and the air smelled like weed.  I first thought it was my Dukes of Hazard neighbors, but there’s a possibility it was just post rain smell.  For some reason they smell similar to me in the South.  But this, mixed with a few other conversations as of late, got me thinking.

Smoking pot is completely illegal in Alabama.  It’s not just a slap on the wrist like it used to be in California.  And you can’t use it medically or get a medical card.  Like I said, it’s completely illegal.
The Bible says to follow the laws of the land and pray for those in leadership, so from a Christian stand point, if you want to obey the Bible, you shouldn’t smoke pot if you live in Alabama.

But what about the states where it has been legalized such as Colorado, Washington, Oregon, and California?
See, the Bible doesn’t say anything specifically about smoking anything, or really anything about drugs at all.  Yes, in Titus it talks about being sober minded, but that also applies to drinking, and a lot of Christians drink.
I personally believe that anything can become sinful if it excessive.  I like to say, “anything in excess.”  So if you’re in a state where it is legalized, go for it, or don’t, just don’t let it take over your life.

So why do so many Christians freak out about it, even in those legal states?  Is this something they didn’t think they were going to be confronted with?  Seriously, I’m asking.  Well, maybe don’t answer me though.
Someone close to me was rumored to have been smoking pot.  Which, whether that was true or wasn’t true isn’t the issue (it wasn’t true and most likely will never be true).  But someone was telling people to stay away from this person close to me because they smoked pot.  And that just doesn’t seem to be a good enough reason.  That’s like telling people to stay away from me because I drink wine.  Sure, if you have an issue drinking and expect me to offer you wine, maybe let me know, and if you really think it’s an issue, stay away from me.
If someone had a problem with marijuana or was trying to stay away from it, I could see why they might let this person close to me know why they might want to spend less time together.  But the thing is, the rumor wasn’t true.  So the person close to me called me laughing, because they thought the whole thing was funny, or at least pretended to.  But I’m not okay with gossip or slander.  Especially from Christians.  Especially from Christians who are supposed to be in high standing and have influence.
Why do we feel the need to talk about people?  Even when we don’t know the facts?  Ugh, it’s just so frustrating, and I’m across the country and can’t protect my people.

But really, this shouldn’t be an issue at all.  Because in California marijuana is legalized.  It’s fully legal now, but has been medically legal for quite some time.  So Christians freaking out about it doesn’t make sense to me.  I’m not saying whether you yourself should smoke it not, this isn’t about that.  It’s about the thoughts and the fears behind it.

I’m not saying that Christians should or shouldn’t advocate for Mary Jane.  That’s not what I’m doing.  It’s not even legal where I currently reside.  But stop being afraid.  Stop spreading rumors and shunning people because you heard they might have smoked pot.  It should not matter.

Why don’t we love each other anymore?  This is why it’s so hard for me to trust.

A Piece of Heaven

Not many people get to know as many of my thoughts as you do
And maybe someday I’ll give you all of them

There’s something singing in my heart
As if it’s never been awakened before
I feel elated just knowing that if I wake up, I’ll get to see you again
Being in your vicinity is almost enough to keep me breathing

I don’t want to be afraid of you
Maybe I’ll learn to trust you someday
And maybe you won’t break it

I could shout your name from the rooftops
But I’m falling in love with loving you quietly

I don’t even want to apologize
For sinking so deep into this
Because I’ve never been so comfortable

And yes, I might expect you to end this any day now
But I don’t want to expect it
Forcing myself not to pull away from you
Because I want to keep pulling into you

I want to really be loved this time around
I want you to love me
And that scares the hell out of me
Because you feel like a piece of heaven

Me Too

You know when you’re certain something isn’t going to happen, because every time it could have happened; every time you thought it might happen; every time your heart made peace with it happening it didn’t happen?
But then at the time when you least expect it, when you’re thousands of miles away with not much money and only a frustrating phone call to go on, it happens?
Me too.

You know when you spend months planning, in innocence, half-heartedly fighting something; giving up and moving on, then accidentally giving in?
Every time you turn away and say no more something within you rebels and you know you’ll give in again, most nights?
Me too.

You know when you make conscious decisions to change your being for the better, making an effort to leave it all behind you?
But then something is destroyed and you discover that you brought it all with you anyway?
Me too.

You know when the crowd is constantly standing in ovation, while your heart, though elated, is still sunk in grief, and no one understands because you hide it well, so you find yourself sitting in a sea of standing bodies?
Me too.

But, you know when all you know has been uprooted, when you find yourself wallowing, when you feel more numb than you’ve ever been?
But you are loved anyway?  You are accepted anyway?  You are forgiven anyway?
Me too.

Jericho

I must be Jericho
Because you have circled me and my walls are crumbling
Waiting to be pillaged, broken, and burned alive
Waiting to be left behind

Running scared
It’s about time, isn’t it?
The last time I came this close to love my heart mutinied
Though something keeps telling me this might be different

You could never be more than a secret
You could never be more than a mistake I keep making
I won’t let you be
Hurting as I’m hurting you

Goodbye should come easier
This was never real
And I need to stop dwelling in my imagination
Pulling you close for the leverage to push you away

I know you can feel my heart beating
I know you count the beats and notice every time one skips
Your rhythm matches mine
And I’m refusing to let that mean anything

I think I must be Jericho
Because I tried to ignore you in your silence
But we must be on the seventh day now
We must be on the seventh round now
Waiting for that trumpet blast
Expecting those war cries
I am going to come falling down
I am going to tumble to the ground
I wish I could avoid everything within me as it shatters

This is not what I wanted
I could never be what you need
Go ahead and call me Jericho
Because honey, I’m falling