I must not stray so far from God that I might believe that I must find hobbies and interests to live a worthy life. Or that I must not ever get a grade below a B because that says something significant about my intelligence. I don’t live for a list of accomplishments or see my sole purpose of existence in finding one true passion. I don’t live for the approval of people, for boys and a skinny frame. And I will not live from the belief that I am undeserving of love, wallowing in self-loathing for my failures and inability to do the things I wish I could. I will not make such a grave mistake, for I am so dearly loved. This is my identity, this is what defines me. Even though I will never be perfect, His love is a net that I am enmeshed in. And what more, there are not enough languages to learn, books to read, not enough charity to give, children to feed, money to make, wars to stop, to earn me His grace. There is no way to redeem myself; the Lord is my redeemer! I am inherently invaluable to Him and He has already done the work for me. If God were simply just, surely I would be unlovable! But how thankful I am to live in a universe where God is both entirely just and completely loving! I do not strive to be the best but to do my best with all that He has given me. And from this place of love, I can have full confidence that I will be okay, no matter where I end up. What I gain from learning and achieving is not self-worth and value but joy in glorifying God for what He can achieve through me. And in the process of reaching my goals I am building my character, developing fruits of the spirit: self-control, patience, and perseverance. How can I ever despair when I can never truly fail because He loves me so.
That amazing feeling of turning a corner and feeling the cool of the shade, pine tree shadows skimming over my skin. They don’t look real either: they’re running in front of me, in sync. Moving figures, two dimensional. Watch as they faint away into the set.
These days I’m a fan of brevity. Cut to the chase before I throw my heart where it’s not enough.
I see myself stepping off the ledge, aiming for the spot between the two buildings. I imagine the drop, the windows flying above my head and then disappearing. I wouldn’t do it out of despair, no. I’m just no longer afraid.
I put my feet up on the chairs not out of blatant disrespect.
If I were an infant, would you be more forgiving?
I retreat into my sheets, just thinking about the marathon of a day.
The list of things I’ve failed to do grows like my laundry pile.
Maybe I just won’t do anything; I’ll never leave this bed.
I shrug off ugly feelings when boys don’t approach me.
I can’t seem to focus today; my thoughts are vortexes.
I must propel myself above the storm-
like rising from a pool using just my arms.
If I were depressed, would you expect me to?