I've determined...

that thinking is a bad thing.

When I think, the thoughts that come to mind are thoughts of how I will never be enough. Thoughts of if I could just do a little more maybe that would be enough. Thoughts of how much of a problem I'm sure I am to everyone around me. I feel I always should apologize for everything I do. If I say more than two sentences at a time in conversation, I feel as though I've said too much and should let someone else share their thoughts because mine are incompetent and don't matter. I feel like a complete waste of space.

What's worse, every time I open myself up to anyone, could be a friend, my boyfriend, or even my own family, it makes me feel like an even bigger burden. I only get about 5% good and happy feelings about all the relationships I have with people and the rest are about how I've probably done something or might do something to upset them. It only causes anxiety and worry to me about constantly trying to make them happy. I feel myself sinking farther while there is seemingly no way out. My thoughts are anxious and depressed.

I didn't ask for this, and I don't think it's normal.

Just to make it clear, this isn't to produce pity from whoever is reading. Sometimes things get to be too much, and they have to come out.

Insanity

is a word that I feel describes me this past week or so.

I feel differently. I sound differently. I see differently.

None of these are to imply that this "different" is a pleasant one. It is more like a scary, dark, sad different. It's like watching a movie of your life after you live it, knowing you can't change a thing.

I feel my heart finally opening up again, and immediately I wish to snap it shut, lock it away, and hide the key. I went so long not truly feeling that I can't just feel without reserve. At least, not yet. It's like this little man in my head begging me to crawl inside myself and forget about deep, true emotion.

I feel myself becoming colder every day. "Emily, we don't need you, just stay home." "Emily, you're a b*tch." "Emily, what is wrong with you? Can't you be happy?" "Emily.Tell.Me.What.Is.Wrong." Am I supposed to get warm fuzzys? It's too much. It's not enough.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not just rambling on about how awfully I feel towards my life, I'm speaking for every life. It's negative. It's pessimistic. It's unpleasant. It's often faked.

Unexpected Beauty

comes with unexpected obnoxiousness.

Yesterday, life was obnoxious. Today, life is grand. How does that happen? Ok, maybe grand is a stretch. Considerably improved from yesterday. Anyways, I didn't make this blog to ramble on about how awesome or awful my days are because no one cares. I don't care.

What is God? Who is God? Where is God? Why is God? When is God?

I cannot answer these questions, although I feel they must have an answer if so many feel Him. I, sadly, and scarily, do not feel him. Perhaps, I'm not trying hard enough. I don't actually believe that, but not because I necessarily think I am trying hard enough. Mostly because I don't feel that I should need to strain to feel Him. It doesn't look to be something you overexert yourself in doing.

At one time, I felt God. At least, I am almost sure I did. It's like when you have an uber realistic dream, wake up, a few days later wonder if it was in fact a dream or real life. I mean, I've felt God, but it's been so long ago that I am beginning to think (or perhaps delving into the idea) I imagined it.

I know, I know..."It's the devil."

I don't KNOW that. I don't feel CERTAIN of that.

I'm honestly not setting out or even wishing to disprove that everything I've been taught is wrong. Because, let's pretend that was actually the case. What a disappointment. What a loss of purpose (or at least, believed, learned, purpose).

I do, however, need answers. Reasons. Explanations.

How did the writers of the Bible so conveniently know the other writers were writing a Bible ("Hey Peter! Yo, you're scribbling down a Bible as it comes to you, too? No way!")? And I don't ask that to imply that I don't think it is God's word. I ask that to figure out the HOW it came together. How do I make myself believe something I can't see and can't find answers for? I'm not trying to read too far into it, but I do need to read far enough to see for myself that God is real and is unbelievably amazing. I long to feel God. I long to have the joy and happiness people proclaim that only He can provide. I think I felt this at one time. I think. I think.

Life is...obnoxious. Like that mosquito that won't ever stop buzzing in your ear, and when it does, it's only to inconvenience you with its itchy venom in your tan leg. Return mosquito buzzing. Or like that constant chatter in Calculus class when you are really trying to focus. You want to scream. It would be considerably inappropriate.

Sometimes, you see life as one huge empty notebook, for you to write down anything you wish. Your very own notebook with only your scribbles and typewritten font and doodles and tear stained pages and chicken scratch from where you couldn't scribe it all fast enough.

Other times, life seems like a pre-filled notebook with someone else's writing. Someone else's choice of font. Pages ripped. Shuffled around in the order you wouldn't prefer.

I didn't choose today to be a bad day. I can't even point out what made it a bad day. However, it was. Thank you, pre-filled notebook.

So, Valentine's Day was a definite success. Went to Mark's. Watched How To Lose A Guy in Ten Days (bc it's his fave :)). Ate at Downtown Grill & Brewery. Yum. Then, saw The Vagina Monologues. Which was amazing. To every girl out there, it is essential that you love your vagina, just as I love mine. To the women who suffer sexual abuse and slavery, there is hope for a better tomorrow. Your vagina is absolutely yours, and no one can take it away from you no matter how hard they may try.

Life is...inconvenient. Doesn't it always seem to be? Ponder. And ponder. It's like having your entire day planned out only to realize you made prior, less exciting, plans that you must attend to which in turn ruins your more exciting plans. You know, like, "I'm so excited to (insert exciting plans of day)!" and then you remember your great great great almost dead aunt's birthday is today. And you must attend what is quite possibly her last party. That was more depressing than I had first planned. C'est la vie, I suppose.

If you're reading this, I love you.

I swore I would never blog. Who cares? However, here I am. Blogging. Not so much so you will read this, whoever you are, but more so I can write this, whoever I am.

I swore I would never blog. Because, who cares? Yet, here I am. Blogging. Not so much so you can read it, whoever you are, but more so I can write it, whoever I am.