Stop. Breathe. Remember God's Simplicity...

I am always waiting.... I sit with prayer hands, counterfeit smile, and legs crossed. You take time for granted... because you know when you're through, I'll be sitting at your home and my world comes to an abrupt halt, until you decide to grace it with your presence. You know what keeps me coming, and you know that mostly it's not for you. My optimistic heart tells me that you want to love me, that you want to be like the ones in the movies. I don't say this because I don't want to be cold, but I think it's evident that we're strangers. You know nothing about me, and the colors in the mental portrait I created of you is slowly smearing "failure." When will I learn? The joke is on me, because I'm still waiting. Mental Note: Focus on God. God is all you need. God God God.

I'm envious of the poor man. He sleeps under a canvass of stars, and drinks up the dew from the grass in the morning. He has no earthly items; He can go anywhere with the clothes on his back, an empty plastic water bottle, and a radio. He is not bound to a job, or bills, or responsibility. He is not ashamed to go against the social norm, and doesn't always shower or feel the need to shave. He may wear his coat and beanie in the sun, and collect cans and bottles from the trash, but who is to say he isn't happy? How can we look at him and pity him? He lives off the Earth like the good Lord intended. We say he must drink, do drugs, sleep with skanks in an alley. Some may, but it's not originally by choice. We pity him, chastize him, make him inferior. For what purpose? Because he isn't living the standard of life Society claims as appropriate? Even then people aren't always happy. They continue to want more. The poor man is happy with his bottle

Why is it so hard to believe we're beautiful? Four of five bridesmaids can say you look beautiful in your wedding gown. Hair pinned into a princess bun with one curl flowing solo by your ear. Pearls draped across your neck, more makeup then you'll ever wear again in your lifetime. Your white dress has boning that makes your waste look slender and sleek. The kind of look ideal for a man's hands to rest while taking his first dance with his wife. The dress has a poof just right and shoes sparkle and match the glowing smile. Like Cinderella, you're ready to step into that room full of people and show how beautiful you are. Your father kisses you on the cheek and wipes his "first tear in five years" off his face. The man you love (who loves you to the moon and back) waits for you behind church doors, nervous, but confident. Lined up before the doors open, you can't help but look at the one woman who said nothing to you. Insecurities galore. "I

Running without a purpose is a selfless gift straight from the heart of God that lets me know He is here. Running, jumping, ssssprinting bare feet, full of joy To admire his creations, and  to not misuse them, but live as one WITH them (a creation among other creations), is worship, the best kind. Loving God. Living God. Breathing God. The roots of understanding and compassion lie deep within the soils of our Earth, (which from the ground, it breaks the surface and progresses through our toes, into the roots of our veins which eventually pulses through our heart). We never stop to listen, and our heart knows, because God lives there, and his knowledge is infinite. Mental Note: All God's creations tell us more of who He is. Listen.

It's ironic when The things that I find funny no one will laugh at I can stress at work and know when I'm home, I'm home and that work can wait -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* With words unspoken, my heart is now broken. Take it as a token of my surrender.

I don't know how to feel (or what I'm feeling). Things I never thought I would say I've said out loud to others and unhealthy emotions I would never express I've let brew inside of me, willingly. Brewing, this boiling substance that wraps up all anger and hatred into this balled knott pulls downward in the pit of my stomach. It sits there and it weighs me down, down so much I've had a hard time bringing it up and letting it off my chest. My tear ducts have this unfamiliar pressure and my eyes have this tingling sensation, but no tears form. My chest hurts, and as a result my breathing is anything but regular. Like a dog on a hot day, I'm panting. I have been running to catch my breath, and I still am. I don't know how to feel, mainly because it's an unfamiliar feeling. Do all these emotions together form something entirely new? Or is this just me not knowing how to deal, or what to do? God help me. Mental Note: You