It had been a long, cold day....

It had been a long, cold day. Tired, cold, and shivering I desperately wanted - no, needed- warmth. Wildly I looked around, storming my brain for how I could find It, losing my sanity over It. And then it hit me. There was a place where warmth was given. A place where you could receive a short, blissful time, before leaving again, out into the harsh, cold world. Hastily, I ran. Ran as if there were a billion spiders chasing me. Ran for all it was worth. And...yes! Yes! I snatched It, before anybody else could claim It as theirs. Before It would turn me away, claiming to be taken.

I entered that place, expecting warmth and a short time where I could be at peace. And I found it. I stood there, as close as I possibly could, absorbing that warmth. That heat. I started to regain my sanity, and I could feel that wonderful, blissful feeling of peacefulness and reassurance creeping back. But as quickly as I had found It, It vanished. Coldness, bitter coldness replaced It. In dismay, I cried out. I started to run away, to try and seek warmth else where, but then I was reminded. This warmth had been given to me for a price. I had made a deal. I had agreed that for that happy, happy time of warmth, no matter how brief, I would complete a task. I had no choice. Hesitantly, I went back, and reluctantly entered that cold, miserable world. Teeth chattering, I went to work, trying to finish it as quickly as I could. But, alas, time was distorted. For every second in the outside world I was there, as I stood there, it felt like a year. I gritted my teeth, and continued.

Twice, I thought of leaving the job unfinished. It hadn't been a fair deal. It hadn't kept up Its side of the deal, why should I keep up mine? But no. I had to be honest, even if It wouldn't. I kept at it. What felt like a century later, I finished. I darted out of there as fast as I could, so fast, even a lioness lunging at its prey would be impressed. I went away disappointed and miserable, continuing in my search for comfort. Maybe next time, I told myself. Next time I wouldn't be cheated out of It. Next time I would be given what I rightfully deserved. Next time.



......I hate cold showers.

Monsters are real

Fear. We all have it. Some more than others. Even the bravest, most daring people still have that one fear that they'd rather die than have to face. But I've been thinking of a more specific fear, instead of that giant list of little things you feel uncomfortable around, or your inability to explore dark rooms alone. I'm talking of a fear that makes you stop and want to hide, that makes you want dive into your safe spot, and never come out again. That fear that we all know we'll have to face sooner or later. I'm not talking about death, but a fear unique to everyone.

For instance, I know guys who are deathly afraid to have kids when they're older, in case they lose their wife in childbirth. But, chances are, that's a fear they're going to have to face. I know girls who are scared stiff to get into a relationship, or even get close to a guy, in case he turns around and beats her, or even rapes her. But chances are, she's going to have to overcome it. I personally am currently scared of growing up. Not the mature aspect, but the real aspect. Like, what am I going to do with my life? I have only one shot, I can't blow it. And I'm reaching that part now when I have to decide. And I'm scared! The ironic part is, I also feel a yearning to grow up and move on with life. Obviously, this is one I'm going to have to work out.

But why is fear so prevalent in life? Why does everybody have at least one thing that makes them want to dive back under their covers, and hide from the "scary monster" like a child at night? Why can't we all just grow up, and stop imagining monsters in our closets?

I think the reason is because there ARE monsters in our closets. Many of these fears are very, very real. Even though we tend to blow them up to be more than they really are, they're still there. Even today, 1 out of every 1,000 women in the U.S. dies during childbirth. Even though that's a LOT better than it was years ago, it's still a very daunting figure for husbands and expecting mothers. On average, 1 out of 5 women will be sexually assaulted by the time she turns 25(I can't remember the exact statistic, but it's something like that....). And as for my current fear today, I've seen so many people die-on TV, in the newspaper, online, even close relatives and friends-and all that their friends and relatives could look at when they were gone was their sad, pathetic, wasted life. I don't want that to happen. I don't want my life to be wasted. I don't want to wake up one day when I'm 80, and feel as though I've wasted it all. Feel as though I should have just ended it when I was 20, and spare the life-long misery and pointlessness.

The fact is, Monsters are real. That scary, tentacled-monster, that you imagined lying under your bed with fangs two feet long, dripping with blood, glowing red, never-blinking eyes, and sharp claws, just sitting there, waiting to snatch you and gobble you up the second you try and poke your foot out of your bed to go to the bathroom was real. And it's gotten even scarier and bigger over the years.

So the question isn't about whether or not there are monsters under your bed. It's about who you're going to run to. Remember how you used to bolt down the hall as fast as you could, and dive into your parents' bed, where you imagined there to be some sort of safety force-field against that monster? Now that that's no longer an option, where are you going to run? Who are you going to seek safety from? I know where I'm hiding. But what about you? That monster is too big to face on your own. Who are you going to hide behind, now that you're too tall to hide behind your mother's skirt? This is a question we all need to ask ourselves. I know where I'm going to hide and be safe. Do you?

Rejoice in the Lord always

The past couple days I've been feeling a little...uh, I'm not quite sure, actually. But the main thing is that I feel almost as though Satan is picking at my weaknesses and throwing them in my face. Like, little things that wouldn't normally bug me make me want to punch people in the face. Teasing jokes people say that I would normally laugh over as well, now makes this little voice in the back of my head go, "Sure, they're joking now, but is that what they really think about you when you're not around?"Also, I feel like an utter dork sometimes. Like, really?? What were you trying to accomplish by that??

Alright, getting past the little mini-rant there....

At youth group last night, we were dealing with the first few verses of Philippians. The first few just talked about keeping unity in the church, but the next really spoke to me:

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!...Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
~Philippians 4:4-7

 No matter what's going on in life, no matter how much crap life may throw at you, you can always "fall back" on Jesus. He's always there. You can rejoice in Him, letting Him be your hope and light.

Lollipop Tree Weirdness!

Yesterday was a weird day. I honestly couldn't tell you how I felt, even if I wanted to. I felt angry, happy, sad, frustrated, confused, smart, overwhelmed, lazy, hyper, tired, and glad, all at the same time. Maybe it's just my teenager hormones going crazy, but I don't know...yesterday was weird. I went for a long bike ride, and came back with a some-what clearer head. But I must have still been pretty out of it, because I had a sudden urge to paint something. So, I ran upstairs to my room, ran back downstairs, and back up a couple times just to find all the paints, paper, brushes, and LOADS of paper towels. Then I sat down cross-legged on my bedroom floor(With Paramore blasting through my earbuds) and painted my heart out. What resulted certainly won't end up in a museum, but i am a little proud of it. It was a tree. Forget the fact it looks like a lollipop, it's the colors I liked. All the reds, greens, yellows, browns, and oranges, all jumbled together in one picture. Exactly how I felt. So, here it is, folks: My Lollipop tree:

Yep, this is what happens when I try and paint. I'm not very gifted artistically(Although, I CAN draw a very impressive Mr. Mustache Man, mind you...), but I'm proud of my drawing. Lollipop tree, you have made me happy. Thank you.