excerpts from stories i will never write

constantly fluctuating. i hate me. i love me. how do i find the balance? just another selfish kid. just another self conscious girl. so many of us all around, hiding. sometimes i'm so normal it makes me sick. this is going to plague me for the rest of my life. i know it will. --9.29.17

one hand propped on the window     one hand on the wheel         singing along with the songs i love            breeze ruffling my curls yeah, those emotions are still there,      but for now i've tucked them away.         i'll take them out when i'm alone, but at this moment              i might be okay. --9.29.17

what if, what if, what if. so many what ifs. the future frightens me. i'm scared. what if i choose wrong? what will the consequences be? t-e-r-r-i-f-i-e-d. --9.28.17

fingers flying over the keys, i type my prayers as fast as my hands will let me. so many things to say, and  i can't seem to find the words to say them. --9.27.16

i keep thinking that soon, i'll get out of this rut.  it'll be over.  i'll stop being so needy, so emotional, so weak.  crying won't be a daily activity.  things won't upset me as much.  i'll be okay. i tell myself it's just been a hard few days, but when i look back, i can't find where they began. i wish these stupid emotions didn't get a hold of me so easily. --9.26.17

i wish you could become the versions of yourselves that exist only in my head. she listens and understands, like a friend. he loves me and makes it clear and obvious. i wish. --9.20.17

It's a perfect notebook.  Beautiful.  Spotless.  Literally perfect; there can be no flaws with this book.  It's simply against its nature. Inside: neat lines of simple writing.  Every person who's ever lived is logged in that book.  Their name is underlined and bullet points cover every page after it--yet somehow the book holds everyone and their bullet points without ever filling up.   The bullet points record their wrongs.  Everything they've ever done.  Every wrong thing done in secret, in public, and in their minds.  Everything.  Nothing escapes His notice. But every once and a while, He jumps up from His seat, smiling widely.  He can hardly contain His joy as He calls for ink.  It's brought, and He positively grins as He flips to someone's page.  He gleefully spills the ink everywhere, over all their pages.  "Yes!" He exclaims, turning another page only to spill ink over it all.  The words ...

and i know most of it isn't true but i believe it anyway. and a voice somewhere inside reminds me that all this is based on facts-- and i can't deny facts. --9.10.17

i smiled at the memories but then they came back to hurt me --9.3.17

and when i run away--no matter how far i run away--You're always right behind me, pursuing me, loving me, ready to welcome me back with open arms. grace is something i'll never be able to comprehend. --9.3.17

everything i say and do  is monitored. i cannot say what i want, what i need, and it hurts. --9.2.17