i have decided i shall impart words of wisdom with words that have been imparted onto me. it'll be like a series or something in three parts.

"Anger is the fluid love bleeds when you cut it."

-C.S. Lewis

"These faulty hearts of ours cannot turn perfect in a night; but need frost and fire, wind and rain, to ripen and make them ready for the great harvest home."

-Louisa May Alcott

"To die would be an awfully big adventure."

-Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie

"Music exalts each joy, allays each grief, expels diseases, softens every pain."

-John Armstrong

"A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word 'darkness' on the walls of his cell."

C.S. Lewis

"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in other; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone."

-Audrey Hepburn

"We should all do what in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry."

-E.B. White

"I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life's realities."

-Theodor Geisel

"Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things that escape those who dream only at night."

-Edgar Allan Poe

"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that because what the world needs is people who have come alive."

-Gil Baillie

the end.

she's right. i haven't given up the fact that i do not have a daddy--at least one on earth. i'm still clutching that bottle with a secret message corked inside. the one that clearly depicts the carnage of my heart. the one that i want its ugliness to evade absolutely all. holding on, it's what i do. but you know what? i am done. i don't want to sweep the problems under the rug anymore. i want to face up to things, and grow. no more lying to yourself, to me, to anyone. i want truth, truth that is hard, but oh so freeing. i'm seventeen years old; no more pretending. you are fifty-five. that ended years ago. but something superficial still permeates every millimeter of your words, actions, love. apparently it hasn't ended for you; that's a shame. because of that, you're going to get nowhere fast. and guess what? you've already started that dark journey. i wish i could help you, but i can't. you won't listen. all i can do is help myself.

so here i am still clutching that bottle with a secret message corked inside. but if you look again, i'm kneeling down... the bottle is gone now and my heavenly father has taken his rightful place as abba, father. this is something i've never done before--have a father-daughter relationship--but i think it'll be good. he'll teach me how this works. it'll be real and finally fulfilling. and maybe one day, i'll have something like this on earth, too. with my real father.

contradictions

i get told i'm hostile a lot. and i really don't know what to say to that because i am hostile. not that i'm a depressing person with no joy or optimism in life. i believe i have a lot of that half full take on life, but hostility and sarcasm are how i keep myself from getting hurt.

my heart pumps blood all through my body; i'm living because of its strength. you know that one; it's made of flesh and the size of my fist. but my heart, that is made of porcelain. delicate porcelain that's shattered many times. to stoop back down and glue, tape, staple it back together, i don't

think i can take it again. so what do i do? i build a strong wall--not easily penetrated. the ones that have proved themselves to care are the ones that get in. the only ones.

what can i do but stand there, look cute. nothing's wrong.

goeth foreth?

what sick, sick words, father.

The Lighthouse's Tale

I am a lighthouse

Worn by the weather and the waves.

I keep my lamp lit

To worn the sailors on their way.

I'll tell the story

Paint you a picture from my past.

I was so happy,

But joy in this life seldom lasts.

I had a keeper

Who helped me warn the sailors on their way.

We had grown closer,

'til his joy meant everything to me.

And he was to marry

A girl who shown with beauty and light.

And they loved each other,

And with me watched the sun set into night.

And the waves crashing around me,

The sand slips out to sea.

And the winds that blow remind me

Of what has been, and what can never be.

She had to leave us,

my keeper, he prayed for a safe return.

But when the night came,

the weather to a raging storm had turned.

He watched her ship fight

But in vain against the wild and terrible waves.

In me so helpless,

She dashed against the rock; she met her end.

Then on the next day,

my keeper found her washed up on the shore.

He kissed her cold face,

that they'd be together soon he swore.

I saw him crying,

watched as he buried her in the sand.

And then he climbed my tower,

off the edge of me he ran.

I am a lighthouse

Worn by the weather and the waves.

I keep my lamp lit

To worn the sailors on their way.

(Nickel Creek)

majesty

where do we live? who is this creator? why do we get such beauty? my gosh, i'm utterly speechless.

PEDESTRIAN

the sun just doesn't seem to be shining in my direction. yet it really is ok. i truly mean that. the days really seem to be melting into each other lately. minor details stand up. they are blatantly obvious, but everything else is swirling around together--mixing together as one mess. in all of that, a constant would be nice, right? yeah, it would. you know what amazes me most though? i have one. i have a something that is always standing there when the fog clears. even when the fog hasn't. he's it. he won't get lost in the mixture.

i don't really know what to say. just that it is ok. i feel ok. instead of that supernatural extreme, there's just a ho-hum peace. comfortable. it isn't something truly special, but still special in its normalcy. God's holding me.

obstruction

i am one of those fireflies lighting up the darkness. but i am also the darkness.

where do people gain their right to "valid" self entitlement? ...themselves, and i have a problem with that.

role play.

dressing up and being something you're not. fun. so much fun.

go.

i don't want to hurt you.

do you ever listen?

i don't want to run.

you're not the only one.

i don't want to touch you.

i'm tired of being broken.

oh, look what we've become.

look what we've become.

i don't even care.

i really need you.

cascading

but what is it? is it real or is it fake? is it refreshing or downright dirt? that is your choice. by cliched obligation: choose wisely.

and i feel fine. but i know the same does not apply to you.

inconveniences

-excessive homework

-low gas

-568 chores

-3 minutes in the day

-wearing the same shirt as someone

-broken printers

-only having change inhabit your wallet

-occupied washing machine

-me

the list is short, but something stands out. if nothing does, i think that means there is a problem. a very significant problem in the minds of the human race. my being has be scribbled on a list. it's not at the top, it's at the bottom, but it's there nonetheless--on a list of inconveniences. i had a friend who once wrote: "i'll take each snippet of emotion and dip it in gold, so that i'll hang it around my neck and wish for eyes to see it there." i don't think she realizes that she captured what i've been trying to do my whole life so well. in my experience, it doesn't work. the mindful eyes of the average passerby reaches above and past my head. an accidental flit of the eye, unheard of.