Notes from Church

Sculpture. Like life, but rather than a senseless hunk of marble we have agency. We can get up and walk away from the sculpture whenever we chose. The test is whether we will stay still as a chisel is lined up and struck with a hammer to knock away unnecessary parts.

Ways to invite repentance: 1. Remember 2. Imagine

Get out of the present moment.

The greater the distance between the giver and the receiver, the more the receiver develops a sense of entitlement.

Clouds

You can't live on the clouds, but the grass is nice.

The highs are worth the lows.

Okaeri

Okaeri

I hope "Welcome home" means I love you. It doesn't, at least not in the way I wish...
We have it so good. Friendship is amazing and I spend loads of time with you. //i should be satisfied and leave well enough alone. But I can't. You are home to me now. I am calm when I am in your arms and our breaths and hearts synchronize. Once I am there, once you let me be there, how am I ever to let you go?
I remember the precursive hand I found resting on my waist, and then it moved to my hip, pulling me into you. I remember waking up and realizing you were asleep behind me. Why do I have to remember these things as cherished, one-of-a-kind moments?
We are a team. I want you always.
Tadaima
I love you

Monday June 12th 2:30am

I am a broken record.

Complaints are pointless when you disregard the advice and help people offer.

I bite my nails until they hurt, exposing the quick, I gnaw at my cuticles until they bleed, I chew the inside of my checks until places swell, I spend all the time I can with you and the rest wishing you were with me. You don't mind, but you don't care the way I do. But I can't leave these things alone.

At a single word of praise from you, my heart soars.

Your laughter warms my soul.

When you talk to me about the things you love, your  eyes light up. I can't help but get excited and love those things too. Your dreams become my dreams. I'll do anything to see that light in you eyes. It should be enough to know you are happy and step out of the picture, but I can't.

This hurts. It is more annoying than a broken record, is more sore than my checks, and aches more than my mangled finger nails. Even when you are happy, even when I am with you, you are not mine. I want to share everything with you because you make everything better. But, you don't want me and I don't know why.

Friendships have ups and downs. Even the best of friends have arguments and say harsh things. You are my friend, but your words, whether of encouragement or chastisement, are powerful. I love you when you are happy, but I still love you when you aren't. When the light in your eyes disappears along with your good opinion of me. You can think the worst of me and you tell me. Just because I think you are right for me, I am not right for you. Indeed, perhaps you aren't right for me.

This hope will never die no matter how I try. It makes life harder, but you can't choose what your heart does.

At least I have time with you.

That keeps me happy.

But, even in your company,  I am still alone.

Saturday June 11th 1am

Over analysing everything sucks.

Why is it that I can casually say ,"I love you" to all my friends, regardless of gender, except him? And now someone else has I am panicking. He isn't mine. He never was mine. He never will be mine. Why am I jealous? It was super casual, she'd called him for a quick favor and said it as a farewell. It could have been a simple slip of the tongue, or habit. But it sounded so familiar and normal coming from her, like she said it to him all the time. I can't and she can. Joy...Then it got better... He came and sat between us and she leaned so I was leaning on him. Mixed messages, gotta love them.

Of course, this situation and others like it are completely and entirely my fault. It's because I won't say those three little words because they mean so much more when it's him. I love him. Not like I love my friends. If I said "I love you" to him, I would be revealing a much deeper emotion, being vulnerable. Often, I wiggle around this by saying "I love you guys" to a group he is in.

This insecurity and jealousy are also my fault. I won't fight for him. I'm too afraid that he won't want me. Rejection would make it harder to be by his side. It's already difficult enough because of my feelings. Even with all the pain involved, there's nowhere I'd rather be. I'll stay as long as he'll let me... Until someone takes him away from me. Maybe someone already has. Maybe the reason it sounded so normal is because she has won his heart. I never could. Why begrudge a victory that could never be mine?

I'm freaking Taylor Swift, thinking he belongs with me...

I'm freaking Eponine, on my own pretending he's beside me...

I'm every broken hearted and overlooked girl ever. It's not tragically beautiful, as it is painted in literature. It's not even unique. This pain is common. My feelings are not special in their nature or their intensity. Hearts break little by little every day, so what is one more crack?

Saturday June 11th, 4pm

Doing what you love sometimes doesn't make logical sense. Being with the one you love when you know they will only ever see you as a friend, dancing so hard you get light headed. Why do I do these things? But, there are also many things I would love to do that I don't do, like travel, dance in different places with different people, learn from the best, or fight for the right kind of love.

My head is a whirlwind full of unfulfilled dreams and futile goals that I cannot let go of. I love dancing so I spend as much time as I can doing it. Naturally I have improved. This is no reason to let the day-dream in my head seem more realistic. If I let myself entertain this hope, I will be disappointed. I feel like I'm on the precipice of a decision and I am standing still, not daring to breath for fear of falling all the way down into the tempest below.

Some experiences shake you. Unimportant things, things that don't matter in the long run, stick with us. A few words, an action, even a thought can change the way we see the world. Inspiration is beautiful, but the inner turmoil is not pleasant. Sitting on my bed and contemplating hope, dreams, goals, and possibilities causes my cheeks to flush and my heart to beat a bit faster. And yet, I continue to sit. I don't jump up and start working. I sit. My head is in the clouds and the disconnect between it and the rest of my being is dizzying.

I tell myself to snap out of it. Focus. Scrolling through messages from friends and pointless articles on the internet does little to distract me from my odd state. The homework that I opened my computer to do has been abandoned in a tab that I haven't opened since I logged on. Music pumps through the system, amplifying each emotion. What I should be doing seems so boring.

Daydreams end.

Reality never stopped to begin with.

There is always work to do, whether it is working towards a dream or working to survive.

Life goes on.

Friday June 10, 3:00 am

Our bodies are amazing but they are also fragile. They respond well to most situations but fail us completely in others. Mine decided to give out on me a bit tonight. While it is always embarrassing to the source of worry, I'm glad to have so many people who care about my well-being. Some things can't be expressed in words, many feelings seem incommunicable until someone's actions convey so much.

Genuine help and comfort from those most important to us can get us through tough things. This experience wasn't even all that dramatic, but it's nice to know the people I love love me too.

Thursday, June 9th 1:06AM

I’m glad I wasn’t involved as my parents named me. I’m glad I didn’t need to chose what I would be called for the rest of my life. It’s the first thing we ask a new acquaintance although it doesn’t have meaning yet. We define what our name will mean to the world and to each person in it. Even as I present the parts of myself I feel most comfortable with to friends, I hide the parts I can’t appreciate. Does this mean these characteristics are inherently bad? Not necessarily. My dislike of them could be an unusual opinion. I guess a name isn’t really that important when it can mean a different thing to every person we meet and even their appraisal is in constant flux, receiving new information based on longer exposure and tweaking the definition to accommodate. Friendship is a bit like science, the leading theories change with the times as do the major league players in making them. Subjects fade in and out of public thought, an idea that seems brilliant can be disproved the next day.

I know many beautiful people. They chose to spend time with me. Why is it that we are so open to seeing the good in others and blind to it in ourselves? We are constantly walking on a hair between self deprecation and bigotry, always wary of stepping off onto one side or another. I respect my friends and I am confused why such amazing people can stand to be with me let alone seek out my companionship and conversation.  

People can be disappointing. Beyond this, people can hurt other people. Some are victims of unintended vollies of manipulation and cruelty. Ironically, some have fallen into calling this love. I did. After months free from the chains of a confusing relationship with a confused person, this lost love rears it’s head. But I see it for what it always was, a mangled and distorted manifestation of longing. Wanting love so desperately that we fabricate it as best we can and live within the tapestry we weave for ourselves ignoring reality. Pushing him away wasn’t hard all those months ago because the wound was fresh, I was aching and I blamed him. He had broken me. I was no longer the person I had been. My name meant something different to me, but I didn’t want that change to ripple throughout my sphere of influence. Blocking out memories and communication, trying to forget. Every wall can be breached by one determined enough to keep climbing.

I am not a beautiful person. This is the fact of my existence. Maybe there are no beautiful people in the world, we’re all just playing dress up and wearing masks to cover our hideousness. When someone sees your true face and thinks it’s beautiful you will love them. If they mistreat you, you’ll forgive them, knowing tomorrow they will say you are worth something, and because you cannot fathom that you are worth anything at all it is music to your ears.

What does my name mean? Who’s opinion defines who I am? How can I be myself when I don’t know who I am?

Why do I care what one person thinks?

I can be disappointing. Missing my company shows the weakness of human memory. If I can remind you of my true nature, will you leave me then? Is it worse to be alone or pestered by entrenched mists from a past I tried to bury?