Save me.

We only bring out the worst in each other...mom and I. When things are good-we convince ourselves that this is permanent. That our life isn't a jumbled up mess, that my father has never been an abusive alcoholic, that my sister would give her life for us, and that we are best friends. That this feeling...this momentary time where we feel good...will last forever.

Then important things happen. More than just dinner and conversation. Things that she thinks I'm not serious about. She says she's supportive. I really think she's supportive. I feel like I'm flying. I feel so fresh and for more than a moment I really feel utterly REAL. This feels real. I'm passionate. She sees that...she doesn't like it. She doesn't want to risk losing those few good moments where we feel unstoppable...she fears losing me just like she lost my sister...like we all lost her.

I thought this year of serving would fix me. I thought it would heal me from the pain I've inflicted on myself, I thought it would save me from my own suffocation. But just like that...my passion is just an unimportant detail in my mother's life. Harsh? Well yeah.

This hurts, ya know...I'm trying to make sense of this. Remind myself that this IS God's will. That He has an incredible plan for me, for my year, for my future...but then I just get caught in these bad moments...they happen so quickly; easily. Like tonight...I bolted. Just now got home-and I left around 6:00...I hate living here...it's a constant reminder that I didn't get out. The years I spent suffering under this roof...the only promising thing that got me through..was that I would be able to leave one day...go to college...get away from this all.

Yet here I am...18 years old...living a lie that I am happy...when truly and deeply...I'm in a pretty bad place. Lord hold me up.