God, this is hard. I'm growing and growing and I feel so big and strong. Like You and I can conquer the world. That I realize that I mess up...that I sometimes even intentionally mess up...but man Yahweh is so everlasting. And You and I...God together we can't be defeated.
I feel defeated. I feel below sea level and my jacket's stuck under a rock and I'm drowning. You can look at the bottom of my shoes and see X's or you can see crosses. I step on things, things step on me, but the cross is always there...waiting for me. God, I'm trying to be real.
She told me that she had been hurt all of her life. That somehow my face was never slammed into the side of the piano and that the pictures of the bruises covering my skin had magically become my sisters. There was so much bullshit coming out of her mouth that my throat was on fire. I told her that he had hit me again. That when I was homeless-it wasn't self chosen. She told me I probably deserved it. That all those years I had probably deserved it, too. That she, herself, had come close to knocking me out. I felt like my organs were shutting down. I stammered to the back of Bed Bath and Beyond and sat behind the curtains. My grandma left without me. That was fine. Crying by the linen someone created a shield around me. This was an hour ago...
This wasn't even the beginning to the stories I wanted to write down today...but now it's all that seems to matter. And here comes the coping...and the bad season is blowing in. I see it up ahead and I wish I was prepared.
I know I have alot. That things are just things...and I wish I was good enough for them to love.
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