impact

reverberating

change

rising

engulfing

what as once

constant

familiar

and sure

crashing 

through
a film
of stillness

solid
form
plunging

a reverberating tear
in the security
of surface
level
thought
and action

its not safe here

i cant breathe here

i had felt so
alive

a split second
victory
a midair
proclamation
of fears
conquered

so quickly
too quickly
swallowed
by depth
too
much
for lungs
to
bear

i cant breathe here

no

not "here"

and it makes
perfect
sense
that the me
ive found
here

...doesn't

im holding
my
breath

for 

"my way"

even the bubbles
have passed
abandoned
my self-serving
endeavor

they burst

foggy clouds

of dreams

i once

had

of the person

that i meant

and wanted

to be

bitterly
reminiscing

of a life i had only
actually
imagined
 
days
when life
was  "blissed"

with hours
hours
sculpting away
a perfectly
constructed
iceberg

chipping away
at any hopes
i could have

to ever

be home

merely
by presenting
an entity
that doesnt
need
to be

in fact

it doesnt

need anything

at all

...i cant breathe here


but i wonder
that maybe
i should reach
my arms up
and swim

water gliding
past my wrinkled
fingertips

bubbles
returning
with greetings,
feigned rapport,
cheering me on
and saying hello

and maybe
with Your help
i can crash
once again

this time
through
the glass
surface
of things
kept beneath

and inhale

for the very

first

time

in a very

long

time

a smooth
glass
cobalt,
true colors
into
a sticky
film
of grey

an aftertaste
of mold
like a liquid
layer
of dust
ingrained
into the roof
of your mouth

how long have we been stagnant?

a song i used

to sing

 

i've forgotten all the words.

"i left my heart on the top of a window sill

it fell apart when the winds pulled it down
on the ground where the sun drove the colors deep
in the summer heat, the colors seem to drown"

i love words <3 p="">

gusts of winds,

warm sun

and smoothies

homemade smoothies

with oats and blueberries

and vanana, and strawberries

things that make even stressful doctor visits

seem suddenly like small road bumps

insignificant, acceptable, 

an "eh it happens"

kind of tale

rather than mood defining ones

i am not unfortunate--not yet

i dont think i have been in a while

and that makes me really happy

i've been, over and over,

blessed, blessed, and overly

ridiculously

blessed

i am blessed to have friends to love

and that love me--who adventure

as well as mishap with me

i am blessed to have coworkers

i can sit in an office with

three of us a mess

crying over one of us leaving

an awkward, and heartwarming acknowledgement

that we fearlessly allowed 

to let someone touch our souls

share our space

where only our own hearts

beat before

i know this may just seem like

a jumble of words and memories to anyone else

but i wanted somewhere to write

about the iced vanilla chai i had the other week

the french toast life tricked me into making this morning

the yummy lunch i enjoyed with the just-right temperature tea

the dinner i have planned on wednesday

the friends ive caught up with since then

the nice, quiet way 

warm sunlight

fills a room

and makes it summer

this morning i also got to enjoy my tea

with sarah kay's company

and stories of her childhood

and the words that keep it alive < 3 

i dont think ill ever actually reach a point

with this particular post

just wanted to vent

my appreciations

for a family that loves me

friends who are like family

family like friends

and a consistent peace

over all the unknowns and unpredictables

for music that makes life

that much more livable

and days that can finally

allowed just to be

summer

and not just another

hurdle of to do lists

and failures

maybe 

i can be okay

exactly as i am

and maybe

as i am

i am already

consistently

currently

moving forward

even if it isnt

at the grueling

self-punishing pace

i think it should be

i think to sit here

and enjoy

and verbalize

my joy

in the life

ive been given

is a means

of moving

forward

too

soul is singing

relieved < 3 ,

hannah 

"But you pulled up the colors with a simple tune
You breathed a song and you dusted off the sand
You put the pieces on your sleeve, you gave my heart to me
It looked so pretty that I fell upon my knees
And from the ground I saw your face
You spoke of love and you sang of grace
But come the night when the light is gone
Its in the dark that my deeds are done
What I've done in darkness, I must turn away
This mended heart was meant for so much more
Though the wind is telling me that it's ok
I'll stand my ground till I hear the kingdom come
So I will fight to keep the fire burning in the night
For I found words to keep me still
And though I'm prone to go and make the same mistakes
I hear your voice calling out my name
I'll fight to keep the fire burning in the night "

my name in this crowd

please shout outloud

but i've forgotten
all the words

each moment is prepped
by asking the question
what would i say
who would i be
what words would i use
if i were
confident
right now

an effort
to be
convincing

to the me
who is
unconvinced
myself

my name
who am i
who i want
to be
buries
and absorbs
into who
i already
am

purposely,
i recite
lies
about
my unworth
invalid
unknown

maybe because
sometimes
confidence
itself

the responsibility
that comes
with confidence

has become
more nervewracking
than the unfortunately
bearable,
familiar,
safe,
sickeningly
confortable
shelter
of
insecurity

lack of
responsibility

freedom
to engage
in wrong
purposely
while pretending
almost
convincingly
that i know not
what
i do

i am my own
biggest
liar

i am my own
biggest
fool

i am my own
biggest
believer

but for too long
i have believed
in all
the wrong
things

i have believed
all of my
lies

of the things
i need to be
and should
become

of the things
ill never be
and can only
ingenuinely
pretend to be

...i dont think
i can pretend
sincerity

i can

but i dont think
this
heart
breaking
sincerity

self doubt
insecurity
internal
struggle
of disbelieving
in myself
and wanting to believe
in something greater
had i not been
so caught up
in building
my own
greatness

would a lack of sincerity

be so
difficult

against my nature

but what is that
who is that
what is my nature

i am endlessly
changing
growing
creating
a new
me

these brittle
clay
hands
fall
apart
crumbling
against
my own
clenched
fists

my parched soul
cracking

parched lips
dusty
fingertips

i want to hear
outloud
my name
in this
crowd

not the name
ive selfishly
greedily
foolishly
tried to make
and build up
for only
me

but the name

You've created

and loved

and died

for me

to be

"hannah"

i am broken
i am whole
i am
Yours

 

if its not one thing, it's another

i am braver
than i pretend not to be

but also more scared
than id allow to show

one of my goals this summer,
might just be to blossom
as random and odd as that may sound
but not girly--cuz guys do it to

i would like
to nurture
my roots

feel healthy
soil
moist
and cool
the earth
between
my toes

feet

firmly planted

but taking even steps
forward
at the same
time

stumbling,
if i may
but not penalizing
the steps
ive been blessed
to take

whether they were
missteps, stumbles,
skipping,
hesitant,
or
afraid

i want to stop penalizing
the steps that i will take

envelop
myself
in His music

and send me
home

i want to
catch
the stars
that are not falling
but dancing

visiting
twirling

familiar
and real

i want to fall
into
green
pastures

of the life
i have allowed
to grow

He will catch me
and i know

even if the air
gets knocked
out of my lungs

i am still

breathing

i am

alive

He makes things beautiful

not me
or all of my doings
not even me
in all of my effots
or me
in all of my little wins
and massive fails

could take away
from the things
He has made
beautiful

He makes things beautiful

this life is

tragic

this life is

beautiful

both are true

i want to learn
to coexist
with both
truths

and be
a truth
allowed
to live

expressed
not punished
sung
not suffocated

grounded,
unafraid,
not stifled

i want to have
nothing
to prove

i want to stop
trying to prove it

He makes things beautiful

and i want to
believe that

and know
somehow
that i was
made
by Him
too

i am a sinner

caught up in words

tangled in lies

He will call me child

though i tell him lies

all i've known

is how to run

all i've known

is how to cry

but

this is not

all that

i am

You take me aside

You embrace me

You create me

consistently

constantly

creating 

me

this me

this life

not just summer,

but eternity

not just chapters

but endless

novels

stories

people

places

and things

You create me

amidst brokennes 

hope that is

beautiful.

my mother wore rosy glasses

...and she passed them down to me

growing up

we went to church
and prayed to Jesus
till we passed out

my dad was never a poet
and rarely had a sad face
but in his heart

i was the clown
who made my
brother smile

he's a devil dog
running strong
never tired
...until these days
recently

but more than tired
he's...
scared

i am my brother's brother
my sister did her best
to be his mother

taking turns
to lose that sense
of wonder

moving forward,
returning.
moving forward,
returning

misunderstanding
never
fully
understanding

that we live
under the same sun

growing old
we think we have to
stand
alone

will we love no one but ourselves?


will all our efforts
deserve that hell

well, well
said our sun
to the moon
by our stars

how far can they run
as they all
fall apart?

i dont know
i said
im just
your reflection

id rather be
id rather not be
but its so much
easier to be

i wish i could be

Your reflection

and not theirs

i will hope
i will dream

will You light up this night?

will my reflection
be that light?

can my reflection--
can this reflection

fighting with the tides
so many things
waving me
goodnight

will i hope
will i dream

when You light up my night?


i want to wake
to Your sunlight

stop checking if the time's right
checking when the time's right
checking if time
has yet
set me
right

 these precious holes
that fill this road
can they be filled?

these holey ghosts
and broken
handwritten
notes

im shouting out
my name
in this crowd

...id rather
be the one
shouting
Yours
instead

a name
worth shouting

will You hear,
somehow?

will anyone
turn around?

i just want to shout outloud
my ears are ringing
from shouting
silently
from the inside

i just want to shout
outloud

i see my soul, my God, my soul's in Your eyes

eyes in my soul

yes will You see my soul
will you see my soul

and if they heard
would they turn around
will they hope?
wil lthey dream?

can this fragile hope
light up the night
fight impossible tides
that bury me good with their nights

im fighting
im fighting

i want to be
fighting

so goodnight moon,
morning sun,
evening stars,
little ones

i want to learn
to hope

sleep
to dream

find Love
in everything

'cause my mom, my dad, my brothers too

i love for them

please let my song

be for 

You

i want to sing

for You

summer stand stills

im not sure when it was
that to be a counselor
became "what i go to school for"
rather than
"what i am passionate about."

which really just makes me wonder though
if it really is...or like...what really is

i didn't grow up thinking--this is it
this is what i am passionate over
and i will pursue this with all of my heart

and i didn't even think that in college

in fact, while people were stressing over
who they were gonna be or what jobs
they would apply for after graduation

i spent my senior year deciding
that the future was not in my hands anyway
and i would just do my best investing my time
in the present in which i existed
right then and there

and it wasn't really as difficult as it sounds
if i think about that last year in college


i definitely had my late night stressed out posts
and overwhelmed push and pull between
my introverted and extroverted self
and more than a healthy amount
of bouts of irresponsibility

yet overall my memories
are filled with
.going from arboretum adventure friends to
..becoming a girlfriend
and receiving a boyfriend

understanding that discipling
means being someone's biggest fan
a sense of consistency
a companion

and being part of a team
meant being strong
together
more than
the sum
of our parts

a family
of people
who will try
their best
and see
each other's
bests

in a collective effort
to bring out
the best
in the people
we were allowed
to let
into
our hearts

what a privilege

the tears, the stress, the trials

my last year in college
was...being grateful
that i could study what i liked
that i liked what i studied
that i had a chance
to study
at all

my last year in college
was feeling most accomplished
after doing my roomie's thursday night make up
most trusted when she let me do her eyebrows
and most loved
when we spent the same lazy days together
in our pajamas, on our laptops
eating meals upstairs
and being aware that between the comfortable silence
we shared memories
and will continue to
of ordinary days
that we would call our own
together

my last year in college
was....probably passionate
if that's what we're trying to figure our now

i was passionate
vulnerable
confident
unafraid
foolish
insecure
alive

i belonged.

the year after was wandering
displaced by time
from the place embedded in my heart as home

my last year of college
was friday morning OM's
a gigantic omelette
with bit and pieces
of anything we could find
shared together
between friends
adventurers

my last year of college

was bear hunting
adventurers
and friends

my last year of college

i was content

the year after
i longed for that

a year after
i found
another--different--
but comforting
and genuine
kind of that
again

laughter,
inside jokes,
people who
want
to be part
of each other's
lives

we're all adults now

i suddenly catch myself thinking

young adults
but the word 'adult' is still there

ominous
and unfamiliar

we're all adults now
and now, our parts
in each other's lives
are by choice

like many things
in our lives now
it is an honor
to be part of
that choice

in a way, our situations land us
from all the different places that we came from
to these wednesday and friday nights we meet
but at the same time, this time
more so than others
i felt like
i had to first
choose


emerging from the confusion
mourning, unsettled, lack of confidence
or motivation, and purpose
from last summer

this past school year
has been
eventful
to say the least

nothing could have
prepared me

and yet
here i am

and here i stand--no
sit, more like,
because like my physical self
it is suddenly
taking a little more effort
to stand
instead i sit,
agitated,
but not yet anxious
 not waiting,
but impatient

wanting to
move forward

im sitting
at the crossroads
of the beginning
of my new, and
probably one of my last,
summer vacations

and i ask myself

 what am i passionate about?

where do i go now?
where am i going now?

i just spent some time reading
and reading, and reading
to the point where i think
i chose reading
over the chance
to be seen or see
real people

real people would be great,
and i am excited to see them
again and again and again this summer
i have already made a list
many things to be excited about
events, events, and plans

yet sometimes i look at that list
and sometimes, amidst the errands
and set goal appointments

i wonder how many of them
are there to fill time
to create
a sense of purpose

--yet...it's not..that..
i don't have one

..i truly
do not know

what mine is
right now

what am i passionate about
...what am i passionate about now?

i mean, i know the things i want to do
these days i really do just feel like a compilation of lists
grocery lists, wish lists, to do lists, errands lists, mini goals
but no ultimate building up to goals
just...finishing the next stage after the other goals

i want to have a productive summer

is that a goal?

or really, what i see 

as another necessary step

to attain a goal

yes, it's true

my goal is to graduate grad school

my goal is to have a productive summer

so i can feel prepared, productive--...worthwhile

competitive or competent

in some way

before i start my school year next year

so that maybe then i'll be braver

know more people

have more fun

get better at overcoming the obstacles

i know i am bound to face

but still...

when did going to school

be for the sake of finishing school

and when did i lose sight

of why i am there

to begin with

buried under all of these other wants

i think i might be

distracted

i have gotten too good

at coming up with all the right words

on command, at every other paper

of what i have learned

and how it is important to me

words and words

of what passion may sound like

the desire for change

but what is it all for

really?

why do i want

to be a personprofessional?

is it another means to satisfy

myself?

cuz to think that might be it

feels rather empty, really

to have a goal

to serve myself

i once felt the same about my marketing job

where the sole and underlying purpose

was so that John (our boss)

could make as much money as possible

it made my stomach feel sick

and my expended energy confused

i wanted to be the kind of person

who did it right

regardless

is that what a personprofessional means to me?

someone who does it right?

it'd be nice to be someone

who is doing it right

but then what

i guess im having trouble

finding myself

in what feels like too much of an obsession

to serve only myself

but how and why

it's hard to be other-minded

when i am not around others enough

and i do consistently do a bad job

taking care of myself

so i have recuperate

in binge-like

unhealthy ways

and sometimes i dont quite know

if i feel quite recuperated

at all

 i just need to find some purpose

maybe i just need to pray

not that simple

but at the same time, yeah

maybe i need to finally take the time

and pray

maybe i wont receive any answers

 but it's probably the best kind of company

i could get

and much better

than the only one

ive had 

all day

(myself)

one less day,

hannah

heart friends

different, but the same
parallel, but not

because if we were
so totally
one or
the other

then we probably would not have met
probably would not have connected

since parallel lines
can only run forward
and never cross paths

somehow we've stumbled
right into each other

where two
life lines
meet

affirm,
and connect

in a way
that coincidence
cannot fairly
comprehend
or encompass

to blame
coincidence
would only
be cheating
each other

of the God
who knew

us both

better

and waited, and wanted
for us to also get the chance
to get to know
the same

introducing ourselves
to us

He's a kind God
no doubt

to us humans
who are
too cruel

to who
God made
us to be

loved. 

 (let's pretend for our own good
that it's not just another commercial break =p

 ...but maybe a hint to something bigger < 3 )

 

happy summer, friend =]  < 3  

 

my grown up shopping list

• tupperware, the fancy costco kind

• tupperware, the impractical but adorable kind from asian markets

• brown rice, but no one to eat it with

• quinioa, i can't spell it, nonetheless cook it. what is that. just know its healthy, so i should

• chia seeds--nother grown up lingo, thing. this one i just put in water though, the white kind? should be easier

• mason jars. i love them, though i am not hipster enough for them

• glasses--my four year old ones may not be very practical anymore, though i still like the red

• work pants that are the right length, i had no idea "p" was a secret size for midgets and twas exactly what i needed 

• work flats, so i can get away without wearing heels. i decline that challenge, life. i decline.

• whiteboards, for my to-do lists on my bedroom door and my grocery list for the kitchen

• CSA box, this is more of a someday thing. i read the fine print and cant yet commit

• costco membership? this might be dangerous in my hands. or in my love life's hands. all my dates would from then on consist of churros and free samples

• a cheat sheet for asian veggies, so i can start eating the veggies i try at ray's house at home

• collared shirts, for hipster, office, and otherwise. it just seems like the time for it. or some sort of declaration that i tried

• a STEAMER--omgsh, a STEAMER. i did NOT know you could STEAM your clothes and AVOID IRONING all together. my mind was blown and my horrendous ironing skills can be put to rest

• ipod, just something cheaper like a shuffle. i think mine stopped working, but i havent jogged in so long that i dont know for sure

• yoga. can i put that on a list?

• costco pack of toilet paper. this and chocolate soymilk may be the only two things i actually purchase at costco besides churros. lots and lots of churros.

• a haircut. something that convinces people i tried, and hides the fact that im mostly too lazy to

• a secret folder of wedding-related items. i have found that a lot of girls apparently have one of these. i just want to fit in

• an instrument im willing to learn. hah. but something easy, please. grown up list means i must be running out of time

• spanish class. to make me more hire-able. so far, in emergency situations, i can only repeatedly ask them where the bathroom is and tell them their sandwich is beautiful

• swimming class. it would be an "i-told-you-so" way to go. and i just want want to give other people the pleasure of that

• a ridiculously ongoing tv series i watch--wait, does BSG count? way to welcome me into the adult world, raymond. one frantic cylon accusation at a time

• people i have breakfast with--ok, so i already have this and i dont know how grown up it is. but it really does sound like a grown up thing to do. have brunch or something with friends? someday we will have these brunches while wearing sunhats and petticoat dresses, talking about how rambuncious our cats have been (this is my assuming that the only people who will at that point still have time to hang out with me might be the fellow single ladies who do not yet have children and families taking up their time. i hope not though. im allergic to cats)

• a hobby. to make me look more interesting. instagram just doesn't cut it anymore. it's like a myspace kind of hobby compared to a facebook or linked in kind of oil painting or golfing

• a recipe book. wait. why doesn't the internet count? dang curve setters

• some sort of living potted plant indoors. inspired by a friend's recent house present. i highly doubt i could keep one alive myself, so if anything, at least a really convincing fake plant will do

• a membership at a professional organization. admittedly was just being peer pressured into this by all of my professors--but it's a terrible cycle. membership means more formal events where i pretend to be a grown up which means more officey clothes disguises. 

• some comprehensive mini make up set. ideally, id just have unfoldable sheets like from a mini portable tissue packet that i can unfold and smack into my face like the last lady here

kaaay,
i think that's a pretty good both practical and feminine note to end on.

i'm feeling more grown up already.

hannah went to grad school

and she was grateful

that was the point.

and you tell me to be

and you tell me you've been there

and you tell me you know

and worse yet,

you tell me

i should know

...your human words make me sick.

as does my own.

...yet God, He keeps prompting

asking, challenging

for me to ask myself

...do i know?

do I know?

where you've been

because obviously,

you don't know

you have no idea

where i've been

what it's like

how it feels

....

to be SO

incredibly

unbelievably

unfathomably

...loved

that the whole world

feels like

it's crushed

your heart

in its

warm

embrace

and squeezed

the tears

right out

of your disbelieving

eyes

that can't 

grasp

what they see
--they've seen
--they're seeing

so tangibly

so truly,

so powerfully

in front of me

the love

of people

surrounding me

the love

of God

embracing me

consuming me

owning me

naming me

His.

...you have never felt love like i have, have you?

..even after

tide after tide

of my own

human words

and stomach turning speech.

..His.

He calls me

His own.

do you have any idea,

what it's like...?

the unsaid answer 

rings in my covered ears

louder than any silence

i never bothered

to hear

[and here i am, a wretch

throwing stones

still fighting]

you can claim to tell me

that i don't know [how you feel]

but i'm too stubborn for that,

much too

arrogant

you can claim to tell me

that you do know [how i feel]

that you've been there

and 

i'll

laugh

because

you have no idea

...and then

my own voice

dissipates

in the air

fading

into 

the powerful silence

that makes room

for nothing less

grand

than His

words

realization

strikes

like a sudden

impact

on a gong

reverberating

the labrynth

of rooms--

understanding

echoing

against the walls

of my 

thoughts

long after

impact

something

inside

me

is shaking

[and again,

more slowly,

more purposefully,

more sadly

it repeats.]

you 

claim to tell me

that you do know

that you've been there

and 

i'll--

have laughed

the cruelest

laugh

you claim to tell me

that you've been there

and i--

im crying

...because you

have no. idea.

...what it's like

to be loved

like

this.

i've never been

more

afraid

than the glimpses

of moments

when i put

myself

in your

shoes

and really,

that's

what im afraid
of

now

to live like this

to be so immersed

in pretend

that nothing

seems scarier

than what is

real

to be so 

tangled

in self-deception

in others' compliant

deception

that to be free

would be the worse

punishment

the most unsafe

feeling

not to have

these strings

binding

my every

move,

guided

like a puppet

of my own

desires

when that

begins to be

what feels

secure

when freedom

begins to feel

like the cruelest

act of treason

anybody

could offer 

that

is what frightens me

that kind of--

of existence

that life

...your life

frightens me.

it keeps me up

at night

in fear

that i will 

become

part of it

robs me of

my sleep

because guilt

weighs down

pressed
like gravity
against

my chest

knowing

i already

am

...dear uncle,

your life

frightens me.

and it breaks

my heart

to realize

it is mine

that you have never

truly

understood

and it breaks

all arrogance, 

all self-righteousness,

indignance--

bitterness,

and hate

it crushes

the self-importance

the self-pity

the anger

right out of me

it pushes

the plank

further and further

swallowing

my vision

until finally--i can see

finally

it's all

i see

of me

your life

frightens me

and to think

that maybe

truly,

genuinely,

honestly,

you may be

incapable

of understanding

mine

breaks

the arrogance

right out

of me

splinters

the plank

in my eye

into a zillion

tiny

pieces

an explosion

of sawdust lies

burning

my vision

and crushing

my soul

to think

that this--this burning

this stinging

this penetrating

blindness

is what harbors

inside you

suffocating

your soul

this distrust

this lack of vision

of anything

better

i am

ashamed

of my anger

towards you

and yet i understand it--

finally, for the first 

real time

i am angry

at the proximity

of the things

i do not wish

to become

and i am sorry

that i cannot help

but cycle 

an ongoing

rejection of you

because of it

dear uncle,

i know

you will never

read this

but i never knew

the meaning--

the look

the face

or quivering

condescending voice

of a sad,

sad

man

until i met you.

i look at you--

or so,

i'd like to say

but to be honest

these days

i really dont

anymore

...i almost

cant

its abrasive

...abrasive

to the senses

to think

that 

a fall

could reside

so 

bottomlessly

in one

living

breathing

human

being

i find myself--i am

abrasive

to the senses

when my fears

consume

my actions

reactions

and taint

the love

i am afraid

of no longer

being able

to give

...Lord, you tell me

"they know not

what they do"

and it hurts because

i dont know

how true it is

for me to claim

that i

had no

idea

either

that i

rejected

blindly

..when in reality i

rejected

purposefully

innately

sincerely

there are days--

most days--

when i mean it

when i say

that everything

about him

goes against

everything

i have ever

valued

or believed in

...the cruelest words

from the bigger sinner

i have

rejected

him

far more

deeply

than he could

ever

reject

me

and yet i 

hold it 

against him

i choose to

i plan to

i...may continue to

hold it

against him

that

he did.

Lord,

my words

are not

the words

he needs

to hear

right now

...he needs

to hear

Yours.

Please, God,

speak

because I have said

too much

already.

i've stopped

listening

a long time ago.

dear uncle,

i'm sorry.

is what

i would love

to say

and mean

..but i don't know

if i am quite

there

yet.

please save, Lord,

what i cannot

please heal

what i

will not

please

forgive

what i

have let myself

become

and please,

more than that

on top of that

take my hand, Lord,

and guide me

please

guide me

out of these shadows that try to call my heart their home.

"people aren't perfect"

that was one of the first lessons I ever learned as a new believer

as obvious as it was,
i still felt as if there was a resounding click in my head
and the lights suddenly came on
and my heart--which sulked in the darkness before
could only be tempted to sulk again now
if only for disappointment
that it no longer had a legitimate excuse
to pity party over its own blindness

i wanted
to blame
the world

because i was blind

and it was always "i didn't know"
or "how was i supposed to know"
it was always, always
because of
them

because i,
little i,
little, big ego'd, poor me, i
bullied by all the bad guys,
tortured heroine,
martyr to everyone else's wrongs, i
didn't know
any better

what a horrifying experience it was
(to my tragic unwritten autobiography of my unjust trials, of course)
for this comfortably self-proclaimed--
as well as genuinely in many ways--
blind me

to finally see

that we were all 

blind

each one of us

as blind, or less blind, in some cases--

more blind

as the other

what a tragedy for me,

like no other tragedy

to finally make out

that these unblurring figures

within this unexpected flicker of lights

the same figures

the same villainous figures

terrible, terrible people

who had for so long

assaulted me

pushed

and shoved

and pushed

and shoved me

around

these same people

who were unreasonable,

irrational, frustrating--

these people

who i thought so indignantly

to myself

"...should be ashamed!"

for all the pushing and 

shoving they had done

what a tragedy it was

to have no one to blame

when i saw these same

"terrible people"

blindfolded

as well

"people aren't perfect"

these words

what i believed 

and still believe

as God's words

as he coaxed me

out of my anger

and tantrum of tears

unraveled 

merely a string,

a thread, just one of many

a thread within

the intertwined fibers 

of the blindfold

that i had lived with

wrapped around

my own head

and blurring, blocking, 

even distorting

the vision before me

these words

unraveled a longstanding thread

from a web

of my own

false,

 selfish,

comfortable,

naive

reality

these people whom

i blamed and hated

looked down on

was angry with

offended by

and couldnt forgive

for all the times

they walked away

were just

as blind

as i was

a room

an endless room

a whole world's worth

of room

of a bunch of people

their eyes cobwebbed with lies

barely able to make out their surroundings

i watched as they bumped into each other

some nonchalant, some confused, 

so many surprised

and every one

afraid

so much so that at times

they shoved each other away in a panic--

when they couldn't recognize what just came towards them

while some grew defensive

angry, frustrated

and pushed right back

others, and those same defensive angry ones,

i watched them

as they retracted, withdrew,

from unfamiliar

from the unknown

yet at the same time

hesitantly

when they thought there was

no one around

to judge

they would reach out

in the same

kind of panic

afraid

to be

alone

i watched them

blindfolded

hurting each other

on purpose

and on accident

with the same kind of desperation

whether they were reaching for

or pushing away

from each other

the same desperation

that wanted to ask someone

to please stay

some could find hands to hold
somehow through some trials
but even then
the fear doesn't stop

the insecurity of what can't be seen
starts to creep in
and the fragility of your heart
can be felt all the way down
to your now
cold
shaking
fingers

and sometimes
no matter how tight
the hold, how comfortable the hand,
how  many the days
that passed
that they were holding
they let go
one before the other
or the other before one
but never really..really
at the same time

too many times
the fear of the unknown
of what they can't see
overpowers
even the warmth
of the hand
they feel
to be real

the presence of their fear

of the unknown

outweighs the warmth

they already know

because in a way
that warmth
is even more
unfamiliar
even more
unknown
that the unknown
itself

we're used 

to the unknown

whereas the warmth
is scary
because it leads us to
a place
of comfort
that we don't know
how to trust

...i digress

"people aren't perfect"

were liberating words
because finally i could forgive
the ones who i
in my own imperfection
expected to be,
rejected for not being,
blamed, villainized,
and was angry at
for not being

they were freeing in that
i could stop beating myself up
along with them
for not upholding
such an impossible standard
in return

"people aren't perfect"

for so long
i had no idea
how much
i expected them to be

and how much
that expectation
probably made their lives harder
as well as mine

nobody wants to be the villain
most times, people don't mean to be

"people aren't perfect"

was God's exhale of forgiveness for me
to all the people who i had held a grudge towards
for not being

those words--as common sense
 as they should have been--
caught me off guard

how long had i been so unfair?

to others and myself.

 years later and the same words

try to creep back into my still stubborn, indignant mind,

to remind me not to hate,
not to be unkind,
to be patient,
to forgive

i would like to say that back then was so much easier to than this

but if i think about it, i guess both have their own difficulties,
just different types, different people,
varying degrees of ridiculous

except where before i was sobbing unpleasantries,
shaking my fists at the sky from my martyr throne,
now i tut-tut with the practice of the pioneer pharisees (i wish i had a milder example)
shaking my head at those who should know better
but obviously wont until they learn the hard way
and rather than thinking of their pain
i would much rather dwell on the inconvenience
of the frustration that they are causing me

still the same me-centered thinking if i put it that way

 which i guess is why i needed to process this whole thing over again to begin with

Lord,
tell me again
that people aren't kind
not always
people aren't right
because our determination to be
can be the very thing that puts us in the wrong
that people can't always be "good"
if even just because
we don't quite really know
what that means
or looks like

"people aren't perfect"

and that is okay.
Lord, please help teach me
to be kind to that

to remember where that comes from,
to invest time in where people are coming from
and to forgive, forgive, forgive
especially when
you don't even know if you have
or will be given
the proper place to

"people aren't perfect"

and that is okay. 

...but maybe healing doesn't always look

the way we think
it will, does, or should look

healing belongs to You, Lord

it is Yours to give

i believe that it will come

i just need to have more belief
in Your version of it
rather than mine 

because the only kind of healing
i can imagine for myself
is limited by the imperfection
of who i am

if people aren't perfect, Lord

and You are

please help me to trust in Your healing

rather than stubbornly waiting

on a probably self-serving one that is mine

one thread at a time

i know 

we'll be okay.

could you imagine

being "brave"
instead of
"impulsive"

"prioritizing"
instead of
being "irresponsible"

being "outspoken"
instead of "opinionated"
and "expressive"
rather than "crass"

could you imagine
seeing others
and seeing yourself

in a positive light
or--in any
exposing
light
at all?

without fearing
accusations
of being "full of it"
or "arrogant"?

could you imagine
having "boundaries"
instead of being "selfish"

could you imagine
"self care"
instead of
"laziness"?

could you imagine
if the word "dream"
could be whimsical
without being
unlikely
or childish?

could "someday"
be a little bit less
far away
a little less
hypothetical
a little more
possible
and a lot more
believable

and can we not pause time
or joy, or life, or adventure
at a standstill
until we get there
and instead
enjoy
each
some
days
as they come?

i think we're called

to do more than just imagine

that people  are worth more

 than they think they're worth

that you are worth

more than you

can perceive

that  people are brave

outspoken, expressive--

that confidence

is not shameful

or out of line

that "just because"

is a good enough reason

(unless it pertains to 

punching someone in the face)

that "rest"

is necessary

"to do" lists

should have

mandatory bullet points

for  "smile," "laugh," and "relax"

that TO relax

is not lazy

and maybe this life

can be enjoyed.

i think i'm always

full of complaints

and i look to lawns upon lawns

of others--strangers and friends

only to compare their shades of green

with my own

i think i'm always imagining

a better me--which isn't wrong in and of itself

just when  that "better me"

happens to scoff

at this me

for failing to accomplish

all that"better me" 

has excelled in and collected

like pokemon badges

or i dont know--

stamps.

i think i can't help but imagine

am guilty of imagining

better people, better places, better times

instead of enjoying

the amazing people,

incredible places,

and irreplaceable times

i am blessed with today

don't get me wrong--

i think

to imagine

is great

but i think

to hope

to have Hope

to be aware

of that Hope

we have

is even better.

rather than dwelling on

imagining--thinking that

the reality we are in

is just a place

we're stuck in 

and therefore

have to settle

i think we're called

to believe

that although better 

is yet to come

Better

has already come

 once before

and with it 

came promises

and hope

hope that

and resides in us

to give us a chance

to do more than imagine

better places

better people

better times

but to create

better places

have the courage

to believe in people

(ourselves included)

as instruments of God

and to believe

we're given

no better time

than now

to start doing so

i think i could imagine

i could imagine all day

and i think

sometimes

i run the risk

or imagining

my life

away

i already know

i can imagine

but can i believe? 

distraction

i realized one internet-less mid december of last year
...well.
a lot of things.

it was quite the mess of words and tears
tantrum throwing, metaphorical feet stomping,
and ages and ages of holding my breath until i get my way
later

i come to some very important realizations

ill sum it up to save the mess--
and to keep some dignity
and maybe some friends
(though i hold nothing against
 those whose attention spans
i may lose in the course of this ramble)

i am addicted to distraction.

that's what i was really looking for

when i opened my laptop

to sign onto facebook or youtube

even when i open my phone

and scroll through instagram

or spent relentless amounts of time

fighting losing battles

in words with friends,

scramble with friends,

and yes,

hanging with friends
(all deceptive titles since its usually
 when im alone that im playing)

what im really looking for is a way out

as i scroll through statuses of people i dont really know

and insist that i am having fun

watching these youtube videos alone

(even with regular movies,

i have long been aware that

im more of a social  movie watcher

where i cant watch movies alone very well

cuz i love the company most of all)

so then what am i doing 

for hours at a time?

but hiding.

i am addicted to distraction--

it gives me a place to hide. 

but what am i hiding from?

God--

well, yes.

but also, 

myself.

and in doing so

i create

the full circle

of hiding also

from God

not because of any kind of synonymous nature 

(throwing that out there quickly before i am struck down

or placed with a hugging jacket in an ever so friendly pillow room)

but because as i avoid

myself

i am avoiding

learning more

about who God

has made me 

to be

and i do that

out of my 

lack 

of faith

in God's hands

in my identity

my outcomes

my life circumstances

and my joy

i withold

joy

from myself

and from God

by refusing

to spend

those quiet times

to learn more

about God

and more about

myself

by learning more about God

i learn more about my creator

i learn more about the one who made me

and all in all, who i really am

by learning more about myself

i am to learn more about who God made me to be

which leads me back to getting to know

the God who made me

by partaking

in completing this loop

of interaction

between me and God

between God and my self

maybe only after that distinction

appreciation, invaluable interaction,

can be achieved

can i really take attention

off of myself

and onto

God

that sounds contradictory

but i have a point, i promise

i am obsessed with distraction

and.

i am obsessed

with myself

what I can do

what I cant do

what I am capable of

and only that

who am i

but His

who am I

but Yours

i know at some point
these words may start to sound repetitive
but maybe its repetition
that i need
to remember
to hear

i believe in the Joy

God must have had

in creating

His people

His children

His creation

His love

and i believe

that we are to take part

in experiencing that joy

not just in others

definitely in others

but also

in ourselves

definitely ourselves

and even more definitely

most definitely

in God

and who He made us to be

not just in words

but in action

how that looks like in action?

i've yet still to fully grasp

but please--call me out

when i have forgotten in

all together

that there was joy

Joy

that the God

of the universe

was bursting

with excitement

and joy

when He created

me--

when He created

Us

im addicted to distraction

im addicted to myself

i have trouble grasping joy--

remembering joy

remembering

that there is joy

within me

maybe these are lessons

that i'll have to learn

over and over

but if its anything like

learning a dance

(disclaimer: i am not a dancer

dance central history has proven this)

hopefully,

the more i repeat

the more it can become

a muscle memory

like a martial artist

(disclaimer--although 

i  did convince a four year old lil black boy once that i was)

who will eventually learn to react

with those at first clumsy

but eventually fluid movements

in response to attacks

that come their way

i've obviously spent too long on this post already

so with this i will end

a little lighter,

breathing a little easier,

and a little closer
to You
and to me