PoLlY pOcKet

My eyes, my body, my flesh scream : Sleep, sleep, SLEEP!
But my spirit, my mind, my heart every sense is wide awake screaming : live, dream, do, write, write, WRITE!

About what I am supposed to write, I honestly have no idea. Must something be crushingly profound in order to be turned into script? Must I have something life changing to say for my words to be worth reading?

Why must man find parallels in most writing he reads? He picks up a novel and starts to read, something that is so far-fetched from his own life, he still can pick apart and apply to him. A man can read these simple words I have here — strange words, words that mean something only to me and apply to a life that only I know about, yet every word is picked apart and analyzed like DNA by a geneticist. Does a man do this because he is selfish? Everything must in some way be related to him? Or is it simply a manner in which to become more invested in the novel or the piece of reading? A way to feel more involved, a way to get the characters to really mean something to the reader?

Whatever it is, I am not to be analyzed. You will find no hidden meanings in what I say, because I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I have been raw for quite some time now, and it has been a beautiful feeling. But if taking my words and applying them to yourself makes you feel better, then do it. If it makes you more involved in my literature, then do it.

I have seen God in my life so much lately.
I slipped for quite some time. I was on a downward spiral, and felt like I had no way out. Every way I looked in my life, it was dark. I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel, in fact, I felt as if I were traveling away from the light. There was no OK part of my life to focus on — everything was in shambles. My friends, my relationships, my finances, my mental well-being, my physical well-being, my motivation, my school, my life was very dark and I continued to think I could fix everything myself. I continued to think that I alone could just wake up one day, make a to-do list, and fix everything in one clean sweep. And my oh my did I try to do that. I tried to heal my heart after Mexico, I tried to heal my heart after being used and stomped on by nearly all of the people I considered "best friend", I tried to change myself, I tried to get out of my depression alone, I tried to fill this hole in my heart with stupid male attention and frivolous meaningless items. Everything failed. I still felt empty, I still felt hurt, I felt abandoned and like I had no place left to go. I felt like everyone I had been there for had left me and that no one cared. I felt like I had been so strong for so many people and had helped so many others through the stormy periods in their lives — so where were they now when IIII needed help? No where near me. In fact, instead of being my friends, they were stabbing me and hurting me even more.

And about 4-6 week ago, I broke down. I sobbed. I lay on the floor for an hour and I sobbed and cried and prayed. I was SICK of that rut. I was sick of trying to fix all of my problems alone, I was sick of filling the hole in my heart with all of these different guys attention and all of the superficiality, one of the few things this world has to offer.

And God answered my prayer in so many ways. Since July, I have become an entirely new person. I have a new heart, a new soul and a new calling — a new purpose — a new reason to live. I realize what is truly important to me... and it's nothing that anyone would expect and it's nothing that most people could ever fully understand.

I no longer feel wounded or hurt about so many things. I have learned to forgive those who have hurt me, without them ever even apologizing. I have learned to see the beauty in every little thing, and I have learned to be thankful just for even being alive.

There is beauty and joy in every moment of my life, even the sad moments. God is working, I am excited, and I cannot wait to see where his intended journey for my life takes me.