i'm a firm believer in God, i know he has a plan for me. i know that everything that happens to me, whether it be good or bad, has a reason, but i don't understand...
if he is the master of everything, why is there so much pain, why is there so much hatred in the world, why do people need to experience all of that, why?
if he can do so many amazing things why does he make people suffer?
i know, i know it's for a reason, but sometimes those reasons are so hard for me to realize, in the depths of sadness or confusion i want so badly to scream at God, to turn my back on Him, to yell at Him because he shouldn't make me suffer, he's my so called savior but he makes me suffer, and lately, i've been yelling at God, i know that He will never turn his back on me, i know that this is all for a reason, so i will continue to stick with him, because he is in fact my savior.
i ask people all the time, what's your favorite story about mom? i hear the stories, and it makes me feel worse, horrible, my heart breaks, i always thought the stories were supposed to help me, but they're just reminders that i won't be able to make those memories, it's another reminder that i was robbed of the oppurtunity of knowing what a nice person she was, what an amazing soul she had. stories are suppose to help, but they hurt me so much. and when someone says, "your mom was sooooooooooo nice, she was soooooooo selfless, she was sooooooooooooo...", i want to scream, SHUT THE FUCK UP, STOP TELLING ME, IT HURTS ME. STOP.
Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. Psalm 62:8
since my mom died instead of actually feeling the emotions i've obsessed over irrational things. since starting my medication i CAN'T obsess, once i start obsessing i just stop, and i try and try but i CAN'T so now, i have to face the emotions, the scary ones, the ones where i know my mom is dead, i'll never see her again, i've never mourned, and now i'm starting to.
i want so badly to have five minutes. five minutes, that's all i need. i need five minutes to hug her, to remember her voice, to inhale her smell, i want five minutes. five more minutes. if i had five minutes i don't think i'd ask her questions, i don't think i'd make her tell me what heavens like-i know she's there, i don't think i'd do anything but say i love you, and hug her, have her hold me, have her be there, for five minutes. i feel so guilty for spreading all this shitty energy, why can't i write about how her death inspires me, how i need to live a better life because of her, why don't i appreciate that i had her for nine years? i can't write about that because EVERY fucking day i have a smile on my face, every fucking day i tell people it's okay when they accidently ask if my mom's going to pick me up, every fucking day i tell my teachers i'm fine, every fucking day i put on an act, and i need somewhere to write about the feelings i don't know about. when i'm writing my finger tips move and i read what comes up, usually suprised. i click new post and i don't know what the post is going to contain. my posts are all over the place, because my mind trys to start burying those raw emotions, patching up that hole. i need to rip off the patches, i need to feel the fucking raw shit, i need to. but i'm too scared. i'm too scared of going back to that dark place, i don't want to, whatever way i can to prevent it, i'm doing. i know talking about how i feel is good, i know crying is good, i just don't want her death to consume me all the time. sometimes i get through a day without even thinking about her, and that's what hurts, she's not in my life. she's not something i need to get through the day. and that hurts. she's suppose to be here, she's suppose to be a vidal person in my life, and she's not. i want five minutes.