Overflow

If I tried to give of myself, you wouldn't like what I'd have to offer. If the cards I put on the table belonged to me, I'd quickly lose. And I know this. I know that I have nothing to offer anyone. And yet, I try to find something of me to present to others, and I come up short every time. I pour out all of me and am turned away, being found to be not good enough, not quite what they were looking for, and completely empty. And I ask, "when will I ever be enough?" But I won't, I won't ever be enough. Anything I have will never be enough. I'm looking to myself as the source of satisfaction, the source of wholeness and fulfillment. Oh how I fail! I am so far, so unimaginably far from being able to sustain myself-- to, in my own person, keep myself satisfied. If I thought I was close to being able to do that, I would probably work for it, I would just kill myself to get there, to achieve a sort of divination. But I know I am hopeless. So I turn to the only hope I have, the one that used to fill me, and I let it fill me again. It renews me, it pours into me, replaces what I handed to others and what was turned down. I give of that, I present what I've been given. Surprise, surprise, what I give away, he replenishes. I am satisfies once more. Some accept what I give, others reject it. But I know that I am filled again, and so I do not wait to be satisfied by them. I do not hope that they will give of themselves when I've given of myself. He gave of Himself so that I might be able to give of myself to them. So I give, I give, and I don't wait to be given to. I am filled by Him. He is my source. And so I give and I let them receive. I expect nothing in return. I find unexpected joy in their giving of themselves. Of course, I now am being filled by my eternal source, and what they give simply pours over, and what a blessing overflow is! I am receiving, I am giving, and grace flows through me, love passes through me; and I remember that it is not my own. And so what I give is simply the overflow of the Giver Himself. I am no perfect giver, I sometimes reject the source, I seem to think I've become a source myself. I am never a source. I am simply a vessel. And as a vessel, I am not in charge of myself. A vessel is supposed to be possessed and used by someone else. I rather not be in charge of my life, I like depending on someone who knows better.

Airhead

I keep wondering, why is life so dandy right now? I'm getting closer to 8 hours of sleep than usual --every night, I'm going to all my classes, keeping up with friends, and having a blast doing it. I'm feeling a little less tired than usual and I've stopped drinking coffee by the pint (not going to lie, the first two days my coffee was replaced with migraines). My days are literally packed from the time I step out of my dorm till the moment my head hits the pillow. I get 30 min-1 hr breaks between a few classes or events/commitments, but honestly, I cannot buckle down in that amount to time to really do anything productive with my life, so I fill that time with the socializing, the keeping up with friends. That way I get little doses of friendship between the crazy, and I get to sleep soundly at night. And yet, when I crash at night, I don't feel drained or needy. I feel accomplished, I feel energized, I feel happy, and it feels like nothings is going to knock me down. I don't mean for that to sound like an "I'm invincible" kind of thing, but just that life is good right now, and the crap people are pulling around me is not going to mess with it. I feel comfortable. Comfortable. At ease.. comfortable. And then that word becomes uncomfortable. "Comfortable." Ehm, I don't know if I like the sound of it. Maybe I'll try something else, like "at peace with life," yeah. I can dig that.. but now that's uncomfortable. Why am I so comfortable?

Why am I comfortable right now? Why do I get to be comfortable? Why does that word feel so wrong? Maybe because I shouldn't be comfortable? But.. I mean, if I CAN be comfortable, why not? If I can juggle this life right now, why not? At the end of the day, I've let things slide, I've laughed, I've enjoyed my time, and I've made the best of my name-- I sure have made myself feel great. It's so easy.. it's so natural. Why would that be wrong? It's what I seem to do by instinct. At least.. it sings a louder song, and fills my ears with the beautiful lyrics "me.. happy happy me, wouldn't that be great.. for me?" It catches my attention, but something tugs lightly at my mind. "Him.. them... her.." but I've already decided the sounds of "me" are sounds sharper and stronger. So, I go for the song. I go for the easy, and I enjoy it, OH do I enjoy it! I love every minute of it, why wouldn't I? And soon enough the song in my head pours out of my mouth as well. "Me, oh me, did you just say me? I love me, don't you?" Or at least that's what echoes through my ears. And I'm disgusted, but it's so easy. It's so addictive. And I can't seem to stop.. is that right? People don't want to hear that though, but I try to yank them back. And some smile politely, some might even think I'm not blabbing about myself, but I know what this is about. I've decided that I matter more. I matter more than the people giving me crap, I matter more than whatever crap they're dealing with, I matter more than the name I've proclaimed, I matter more than you. And so I keep talking. I keep taking, and I take and take. Did I get tired of giving?

A leech. I guess that's what I'd call my "comfortable." I'm sucking from everything and everyone. I'm not giving anything.. to anyone. I've decided I matter too much, why give to the people pissing me off when I can just drop them and take from the people feeding my pride? So I decide that I'm in control of what I give and what I take. I've shut down all outward action--except for my mouth of course-- and I've upped the levels of intake. I've decided I don't need anything else. Me. Yeah, that sounds nice. I've got my friends-- the ones that make me look good, and the rest is under control. I can surround myself with all sorts of people and things that will huff and puff till my head's full, and I disregard anything or anyone that would need something from me-- anything that I have to work for. But I'm comfortable.

So maybe I rather be uncomfortable. Or maybe I know that this "comfortable" I feel right now is taking a bad toll on me. It's slowly getting its dirty claws on my heart, on my soul. He fought too long and bled too much for me to give in. So I have to fight this uncomfortable. I guess I'll start the fight. I'll fight the "me" ringing loud, I'll pay attention for the "Him.. them.. her" that leaves its faint echos. I'll lay down my crown made of plastic shiny crap that I bought at Hobby Lobby and I'll shut my mouth. I'll ask them about them. I'll try to fix what I've shattered. I will try to deal with the crap, to get to the person. I'll put aside my empty stories and listen for their stories. I'll minimize my mouth and max out my ears. Or at least that's the plan.. the theory for now.

I'll stop doing every thing in my day for me. It's about time I take part in things for the sake of others. It's about time I don't look at a picture of a starving child and go "oh, that's unfortunate.. listen to how I fed a starving child!" and I'll actually put my hand to the plow to do more than I talk about. It's about time I think of others not in relation to me, but to Him and to them.

And sometimes we get fed up and won't play along. And sometimes.. I won't fight.

"In God We Trust"

Though some people may call The United States a "Christian Nation," it is far from being a nation based on Christian principle and faith. If anything, the easiest way to function in this country is to be lax about your religion, and faith will clash with the "freedom" of these people. I guess it's good we don't hold to religious standards that aren't met by faith, but I'm used to living in a much more religious country-- not so much filled with God-fearing men and women of faith, but a country that has a holiday every few weeks for the sake of Saint someone or Mary Virgin of someplace. All I'm trying to say is that Colombia is flooded with the Catholic religion-- and this is reflected in the holidays. I'm used to a Spring Break that is more often referred to as Holy Week, because we get that week off from school the week between Palm Sunday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday. The week is more sacred for people, even if only for the sake of religion, but it helps Christians take the week more seriously. It's hard to step back and take the time to take in Christ's sacrifice as we inhale and remember his risen body with every exhalation. With the kind of week I've had, it was hard to crunch out those minutes to be able to really meditate, soak it in, and reflect. But when I did, when I just wrote, read, and thought, I was so humbled, so convicted, so broken, and so thankful. We've learned all about crucifixion in New Testament Survey and I couldn't watch that church Easter play in the same light tonight. We downplay or try to brush past the pain of Christ's suffering. We break it down to flogging, carrying a heavy cross, and the piercing of his hands. As the man playing Christ walked down the aisle with fake cuts and blood as he carried the cross and a Roman soldier beat him on, I noticed some people watched intently, others glanced and looked away, as if hoping that he would hurry up and be crucified already so they wouldn't have to watch anymore of it. I found myself thinking "this is kind of awkward.. are we supposed to just watch him.. or..?" Then I remembered, Jesus went through a lot worse than this, and I felt awkward.. good job, Sierra, you're shallow.

What I came to write about was Holy Week-- how this time last year I had just gotten back from one of the most amazing weeks of my life. This year? I am currently trying to repress this week into my subconscious, from which it will never emerge again. It's honestly a blur, one that I only want to get blurrier. Back to last year. I miss it, I miss it terribly. I miss the faces, I miss the songs, I miss the languages, I miss the river. My little brother got back yesterday from the trip I went on last year to the Amazon. Lilia put up pictures and wrote on my wall that the kids were asking about me.. by name. We were there for 8 days, providing medical care for a few Ticuna villages. Of course, I had nothing to do with the medical stuff, I just played with the kids and painted. I was especially touched in the third village, 2 de Mayo. By the end of our few days there I had accumulated a little gang of boys, ranging from about 6 years old to probably 10. They were my body guards, my buddies, my tree monkeys. I remember the first time I met them was when I was painting bible verses on the outside of houses and a couple of them started following me from house to house. They didn't say a word the entire time, I'm not even sure many of them spoke Spanish. But they stuck by my side, and I put them in charge of designing something to go along with the verses. I gave them each a brush a let them help. Soon enough it started raining and we joined Ruben in the river, playing and wrestling. When everyone went into the jungle on a little hike and we stopped at a fruit tree at the end of the trail, they had filled a huge tree and were throwing the fruit down at me, filling every one of my pockets and theirs with snacks. They ran along the trail, winding in and out of the yuca plants, playing tag, making quick appearances every few minutes as we all walked back. I loved those boys, and I miss them. They taught me how to count all the way up to 4 in Tikuna and they had a great time with my name.. "Sierra, cierra la puerta!!" I love that Lilia and Leo and my brother and the whole rest of whoever went got to see them and play with them, but I wish I could have. I wish I could bring back more t-shirts covered in paintings and hand prints.

On to other things I miss. Friends. Or better said, specific friends. I know people change, but some people just seem to get shadier.. at least the people they are with and places they go. I miss hanging out the way we used to. How we could spend hours doing nothing.. at least it wasn't quite as shady. So I get tired of shady, and I stop coming around. But there are other people involved, and I miss out on them too. The less shady, that is. We all notice that we haven't seen each other in so long, and we all miss it, we all want it back. People started thinking I got shadier, and maybe I did, maybe my life had become slightly questionable-- or at least from the outside. And I wanted to reassure them that I'm the same person, but I might have risked too much by not trusting that they trusted me. I am no circus performer, my balance is all too flawed. I think I had that balance for a few weeks.. but I got tired of shady, I got tired that it was always shady, that it couldn't move from there. So the group I had once neglected, I embraced, and so neglected what I had embraced all too easily at one point. I've been told that I'm really good at making friends. And yes, I think I can admit I'm a people person, but the problem comes when I make friends with people on both ends of the spectrum. I mean, I really do love it, it's diverse, and we know I'm ALL about that diversity stuff! But there's no middle. These different groups never seem to overlap, unless I'm pulling one into the other.. very forcefully. It's tiring, going back and forth. Trying to involve them. It's tiring when I want so badly to pour all of myself into all of the groups, all the while trying to be a responsible student (if you know me well, you know my efforts aren't significant). Some give back so much, and others, though they say they miss me when I'm gone, don't seem to enjoy me too much when I'm around. I carry too much baggage from the other groups, too much "shadiness" let's say. Everyone else in the group is completely giving to the group, but I can't, and I'm not sure some of them are okay with that. I'm afraid what I can give them, if I want to maintain some of the other groups, isn't enough. So I've been trying to give more, but I'm feeling it everywhere else. And so it's all thrown off balance.

22 days

what? I don't know if I believe that. 22 days since my last post. Not that anyone's missing out on anything, but I missed this blog some in those 22 days. Someone said today "you think about what you love" and I've thought about this blog a lot in the last 22 days.. I don't know if I dare say I love it though, those are strong words for something that will not do anything in the long run. And yet, I'm back, because I missed it, and it deserved some TLC. Who doesn't want attention from me, right?

So in these 22 days,
1. I got over being homesick--some circumstances that added to the emotional wreck were revealed and things were better explained. I'll be fine, I'm alive, and I can't wait to be back for Christmas, but for now, I'm here, and I am loving it, and will love it. I'm joyful, I'm happy, I'm back to being me I believe.

2. I am an official 2012 Life Group Leader. Had the interview, and just like everyone else, felt like it went pretty well. I guess it did go pretty well, because I went through some weird stuff tonight during New Life Group Orientation and will be headed somewhere great this weekend. Trusting Lee and Rachel to keep us safe and happy, though that shouldn't be too hard. I am crazy excited about next semester. I'm crazy excited about the rest of this semester! But all that to be kept for another day.

3. The guys played Culture Fest and rocked everyone's socks off. Boss rapped and girls swooned. Someone compared Dani's voice to Elvis Presley, Chris rocked the crap out of those drums, and Josh played some great solos on his guitar. People loved it. As I advertised in all my classes "How often do you get to see athletes play good music?" I was so nervous for them, I felt like one of those kindergarten moms watching their child, the one dressed up as a tree, in the class play. I was so proud, I'm pretty sure I was beaming. I know most guys don't like to be mothered so I keep away from that, but I felt like a proud mom... which might be slightly weird. But they're my boys, those boys, and they made me really proud.

4. I went to a rocking concert and got bronchitis, with a side of more sick. Fun. is at the top of my list for best concerts. Birmingham was shnazzy, and the group I went with was too much fun for my tired body. We sang at the top of our lungs the 3 hours back to Franklin at midnight and I think that's when my cold turned for the worse and inhabited my lungs.. good times. But it was worth it, it was amazing and I sure don't regret it. Only with the help of some antibiotics did I get over it some point last week.

5. Midterms. So, I only had a test and a reflective paper, but did I feel burnt out. Exhausted is an understatement. I was barely functioning. So when Friday afternoon came and all left for Spring Break, I took a nap. I came back from Spring Break still tired, but it's a different, good, fixable tired. I'm getting some sleep, and it feels so unfamiliar.

6. I went on a GO (Global Opportunity) trip to Hendersonville (Nashville) over Spring Break (last week). It was kind of amazing. Well, more than kind of. It was not like any other trip I've been on before. God answered prayers. There were great awkward conversations. And I learned a ton about sharing the Gospel with people who don't want it. I have so much more to say about this trip, and it's coming soon, I promise, I just don't have the minutes right now.

7. I've been caught off guard with the notion that people care about me. Of course I know people care about me... but I figured it was my closest friends, the few, the crazy. But I've learned that there are others who love me and care about me--and I didn't see it coming. I've been referred to as a sister a few times recently from different people, and once it was followed with a comment about being protective over me. I was assured that one friend was quoted to say that he would beat the crap out of anyone who laid a hand on me. I love these people, and I care about them, but a lot of time it feels like I'm farther into the deep end with involvement, and I'm okay with that. To realize that they do love me and really care about me-- and think about caring about me, it's good to hear. I wonder why they keep me around, why they put up with me, why they invite me and hug me. I wonder why they let me see it, see them live. There's no reason for our friendship, really. We don't believe the same things, we don't live the same way, we don't see eye to eye on most anything, but they've stuck around. I know my reasons, but I can't seem to understand theirs. Love me? eeeh, I don't know about that. That they now care about me.. I still doubt it, I don't know if I can fully believe that. I know I love them, but I don't really expect it to come my way, so I don't really know what to do with this. For now, maybe believe it.. maybe enjoy it.

Apparently

this is not okay. Apparently this is not a phase? But I'm convinced it is. I'm convinced that I'll get over this. Apparently I need to get back on track.. but I'm not sure I'm off track. Maybe I am "off track," but I really don't see it, I honestly think this temporary homesick dip in my life right now isn't me "off track," it's me living a continent away from home and finally getting a sour taste of balancing college life. I think this is necessary for me to start saying goodbye, realizing that I will never live at home again (at least that's the plan), and growing up. I don't think going home every time I miss it is the answer, because I would have had to go home at least a handful times since August. Mom asked me today to come home this summer, to trust that we'd get the money somehow and that I need it. Maybe I'm being stubborn, but trying to make that work would put a lot of stress on my parents, financially and emotionally, and I cannot see the possibility of me ever being able to pay them back for a trip over the summer and for Christmas. I'm tired of asking for money-- people have already given so much, I need to start working for it. And I'm trying, I'm trying to work for everything I have to pay for, because so many people have already been so generous in times of need, or just times of want, it's my turn to pull the financial weight. But tutoring in Colombia, which is pretty much the only work I can legally do there, can in no way get close to the amount I would need to pay for those trips, and on top of that I need to be saving up for doing my study abroad. Don't think I'm saying I don't want to go this summer. I want it more than anything, but right now it's more of an emotional weight to try than not to. I'm afraid it won't work out, and by the time that happens my heart will be in it, and then I'm back to square one, as I was last week.

Or I thought it was just last week. I thought I was coming out of that dip, I mean though Nashville made me miss Bogota, I really enjoyed it and was having a good time. I felt happy. And yesterday, I felt out of it, I wasn't sure what it was, but I was just not the same old me. The only place I found myself smiling and feeling okay was during the worship service at City Fellowship. I knew that God was and is using this to mold me, when we sang "You make me new, You are making me new" was when I realized that that's what is happening, at least, that's how this heartache will glorify God, if I let it refine me. Last night I headed to bed early, I knew today was going to be a long day. And around 11 I got a call that woke me up. My friend's mother had passed away. She had been battling cancer for a while now, and last night God called her home. I know is she doing what she did best, praising Her Father in His Presence. And so there were tears of joy for her, but the rest, those for her family weren't quite as joyful. To think that my friend didn't have his mother anymore, I couldn't fathom it. After trying to process and praying, I fell back asleep, and though waking up energized in time to swim, I went back to sleep. I didn't know how to process, so today I went on automatic, I didn't even know what I was feeling or what to do with them. Then my mom asked me to go to Colombia, and it got frustrating. Maybe I'm just pessimistic, but I don't think that it will work out, and it made me slightly angry that mom would even propose something that would get my hopes up.

"You're just not happy anymore.." My heart sank, it broke, and I couldn't hold it in. I didn't think this would ever be said of me. I was a joyful person. Others had told me, I was just always happy, not just happy, truthfully joyful. And now my close friend was telling me that I just wasn't happy anymore, and that's why I need to go back to Colombia for the summer. Unhappy? No, this is a phase.. that I thought had ended. So maybe I'm unhappy right now, maybe I can't seem to find that joy that once was mine except for in little moments. But if it's getting better, why am I still unhappy, if not even more this week than last.

And I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated that I'm not getting over this, that we're trying to make plans that have too high of a risk of failing, that everything else is going down the drain. I'm frustrated that I'm not doing my best and that I can't seem to get there. So I'm lashing out, I get angry at people, and I hurt them, or make them angry at me. I say things I don't mean, I focus my frustration on certain people and they think I hate them. I don't, I really don't. I've never been good with dealing with my frustration and anger, I was a devil child to say the least. I might not throw things anymore, but I sure hurl angry words and thoughts. I make people feel like crap, and it makes me feel worse. Then I can't explain myself or feel like I'm just making excuses, and I'm misunderstood and sorry. So if I make you angry or hurt you in these next few days, I really am sorry, it' probably not your fault, I'm being a butt-- though that's no excuse. Call me out, tell me I'm being an idiot and that I need to fix things in my head and deal with stuff, tell me that I need to get over it.

My head isn't quite convincing enough

Missing home stinks, so I decided on Wednesday that I would stop. Or at least that it would get better, and it has, but not by the means I was trying. I told myself that if I just decide that's it's all okay, I'm just being dramatic and emotional, and I'll be fine till December, then things would change immediately. So I told myself that to get over it, that I didn't miss Colombia but I was just a mess, and that I needed to stop thinking about it. It took me just about a whole day to realize that things didn't work that way. My head was saying it was okay and that I was fine, but my heart wanted more, it wanted home. I was longing for that nostalgia to be satisfied, but I wasn't exactly doing anything about it. I knew that there was no way to get what I wanted, so I told myself it was passing phase, that I didn't want it anymore. But it was there. I wanted home, and I wanted it just as badly. I could act better, but it wouldn't go away. I felt less like an emotional train wreck, less likely to get depressed and sleep my life away, more like I had a hold on things, but I couldn't change that want to go home. So I left it there, and I'm sure it will stick around for a little while longer, but at least it doesn't have it's control on me. Realization: I'm an idiot, my head can't control my heart on this one. I can choose to be okay with having that constant heart ache, knowing that I will go home soon enough, and in the meanwhile I can choose to live on, to be happy with where I am. So my heart will hurt every once in a while, and I will always want to go home, but I can be okay with that, I can get used to that, I can trust others to be there, and I can deal with it.

Of course, as soon as this started making sense in my head we're driving into Nashville. The city lights are sprawled before me under the night sky and my heart aches. I'm so excited to see something familiar, and I find home. At least, I find potential for a home in the comfort of the sound of traffic and in the towering skyscrapers and in the cracks on the sidewalks. I am learning to love Jackson, but it is no city. And so Nashville fills my heart with happiness, but it soon turns into heartache. I don't only want this city, I want to see Bogota in that city. I want some shopkeeper to call me "mija" or hear children say "seño." I want to see the familiar faces of the indigenous and the needy, the broken and the wanting, I want my home, not just a home. But I'm okay with wanting. I decide that I'll take in the city while I can, and take it with me, let it give me a part of Bogota. I decided that if I have to live in the US for some time after college, I would head to Nashville.

And for a little change in topic. Something I've been meaning to write about and which I am still learning about. Trust. Yes, I am so cliche, that's what I'm writing about .. but it's how trust works in my life.
This is pretty much how I think I work--but things change, as we'll learn shortly.
If I don't know you, my level of trust for you has everything to do with my first impression of you. If I feel comfortable around you, I will trust you hands down till you lose that trust. If that first impression isn't so good, I won't trust you at all, until you change that, if you ever do. It's not at all hard to gain my trust.. I will be skeptical, but a few right moves and you're in. This can be a problem. If I trust you off the bat, I really trust you. I am naive and expect you to be trust-able, and so I'll act like that's how it works. I've figured that you've been good to me so far, why would that change? I fall prey to deceit a little too easily because of this. And so I am so disappointed when you show yourself not trustworthy. And I realize that I shouldn't be trusting people- I have no right to. So I lose trust in them, and I then it's hard to redeem.

And if I don't trust you at first, because of first impressions, I really don't trust you. And I won't hold you up to anything. Warning, if you show yourself trustworthy soon enough, or just seem to show this in a few occasions, I'll trust you, even if I shouldn't. So I trust too easily, and get hurt too easily too.

I get hurt because people aren't to be trusted. I was reminded of that this week. I'm not saying that I can't count on anyone; there are some people that I can count on to pull through most of the time, and I know God pulls through every time. But I trust some people with too much. I expect them to be there when I need to, because they have at some point. And they won't be there every time. Actually, some of these people were only "there, that one time" because that's just how it worked out. They weren't exactly intentional about caring for me, it happened to be convenient. So I trust people easily, and because people don't pull through, I get disheartened, and for a while, I don't trust any of them, and I find myself alone, bitter, and confused. They seemed so trustworthy, but they didn't pull through when it mattered. And then I remember that they're human. I know I'm not always going to be there for everyone, and neither will they. So I guess I shouldn't trust people quite as much as I do.

And this leads to my friendships. I trust my friends with everything.. or at least I did up till now. (I know I'm saying I should trust people less, but I'm not sure this will actually take its effect). I put so much of me into the friends that I've chosen to be intentional with, and when they don't pull through, when it seems they don't even try, it changes things and I trust them much less. They won't always come through, and I get that, I won't either, but when they see me trip and don't try to stretch their hand to reach me, and watch me fall, how can I think they tried, how can I think they cared? We've spent so much time in this friendship, and at this point I can't feel them push for it, I see them passively fall. If they can't give what's missing when I come short, how can I keep pushing? And yet, I push, because I let people take advantage of me.

Like a book

People seem to think that they can read me. Some can, but those are few. I can actually only think of two people who can read me, my expressions, and know what's up. So many other people seem to think that they'll be able to figure me out. I see them searching but I keep it closed. Sure, on here I let it all out, but in person, you would never know what's actually going on. I'm like a vault, yes, that's an overused metaphor. But really, my friends who don't read my blog, the wiser majority, wouldn't know what I'm going through this week. They're so oblivious to how badly I don't want to be here, how much I am tempted to just crash into bed and never leave, how easy it would be for me to fall into some sort of depression and let myself get sucked into it. I'm not saying they're not attentive, that they don't pay attention, because they do, and they care for me, I can tell. But I cover everything up so easily with a few loud outbursts of laughter and a groggy smile. I am usually tired and happy, and it is so easy to fake. Yes, I'm tired, but that smile probably isn't deeply true-- not this week. I can smile at something funny, I'll giggle at anything, but the nagging of this week's crap doesn't leave the forefront of my mind. If you didn't know otherwise, you never would. And so people don't think twice about how I am. Why would they? I'm laughing-- across Cobo in fact, and I'm still going to Bible Study and hanging out with people. As long as I think someone might be watching, I play it up, I act like my normal self: loud, happy, and stupid. When they're not looking, when I'm walking down the hall and they're not around, the show's off, and if you didn't know me, you might be able to tell something's up. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.. and I won't let it. Because if I do, people who would care will care. And I don't want to burden them with that. I don't want my crappy week and weak heart to weigh down on their days. So they don't know, and unless they read this, they won't know. And then I deal with it on my own when I really just wish I could accept the embrace and let them love me and care for me. And that's selfish.. people would say it's not selfish, and maybe it's not, but making someone else have to deal with what's going on inside my head and my heart just doesn't seem fair.