Prayer in the Night

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I’m done searching for a miracle.

Done asking for fixed things.

I won’t plead with You any longer to release these bruises from my bones.

Or to lift the ink from my heartskin.

I don’t need restoration like I need to know You.

So, don’t take away this achiness.

Don’t let Lonely leave.

I hate her.

More than I’ve ever hated anyone.

But, You said she can stay-

So, she can’t be that bad.

Keep me here.

Trapped in a world I can’t see clearly…

Fuck my eyesight.

Because, there’s nothing worth seeing if I cannot see it with You.

You see in darkness as you see in light…

Will you see enough for me?

Let all I have lost remain lost.

Cast away into the infinity of finiteness.

What is any of it worth, if I am lost from You?

It hurts.

Oh it hurts.

To love with this mess of a chest.

The imperfect trying to love the imperfect will always be imperfect.

The imperfect trying to love the Perfect? It too will always be imperfect.

But You the Perfect, loving the imperfect, will always be Perfect.

So, Leave me in the pit.

In this groaning flesh.

In this sickness.

In the inexhaustible pain of existing here…

Just please don’t leave my side.

Miracles won’t help me now.

One thrilling, blood-tingling, impossible happening,

Would leave me cold just the same as the mundane.

It could never be enough.

I need a lasting happening.

Happening and moving constantly from one ache to the next.

I need a True Love.

A Transformational, Supernatural, All-consuming fire.

You.

Will You be enough for me?

 

Tattoo

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Time heals all?

Not of this sort…

 

You.

 

The only eternity that matters anymore.

 

I danced with a needle,

 

You took up a pen.

 

You would choose paper, but I would choose…

 

SKIN.

 

Forever.

“What a fool!” “What a fool!”

 

I cried to the Savior.

“Wash me clean!”

 

But this was no stain like I had at thirteen…

 

Scarred.

 

Needle scraped skin of insides unwritten,

 

How could I not know you’d forsake my “Forgiven”?

 

Oh how I’ve steel-scrubbed my heart-skin,

 

Just striving to wash you away.

 

And turning my face from the canvas,

 

Trying to remember it blank.

 

But on and on you are with me,

 

Long after the needle has scathed,

 

For I would choose skin and you would choose…

 

Paper.

 

On paper you penciled me in.

 

To-do today,

DONE tomorrow.

 

If you etch within margins, you can skip the sorrow.

 

You.

 

Bored like a child.

Blind to the value.

Scared of a pinprick.

Me.

 

Thrilled.

 

Longing to learn.

 

Beholding priceless treasure.

 

Committed to the art,

 

Yes! Even though it burned.

 

And fuck, I regret you.

 

I finally do.

 

My killer, my friend.

 

My eternal tattoo.

One

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Ah, Star Trek.

My first Sci-Fi love.

When I explain what Star Trek is to non-Trekkies, I simply say- “Star Trek is not about starships, planets, or aliens, It’s about people”.

That tends to surprise people because of course all of the wormholes, phasers and Klingons are much more flashy than the subtleties of humanity.

But, then again, maybe not.

As a 13-year old girl in a new town, in a new school, with no friends, the quieter story of people being people was the most gripping aspect of the show.

I especially loved all of the characters who didn’t fit in…

So many of them didn’t.

One of the most compelling of these characters is Seven of Nine from Star Trek Voyager. Born human, she was taken, brainwashed, and assimilated into the Borg collective at the age of 6 years old.

Through a certain chain of events she was rescued by captain Janeway and liberated from the collective after many years. For the remainder of the show she must work to regain her humanity and discover her identity.

She was brilliant, innovative, talented, and assertive. Not to mention the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous even with her Borg implants.

She had it all. She always kept it together, but even in all of her perfection she struggled with a deep loneliness that she herself could not define.

I see myself in her story even more at 23.

I’ve escaped my own collective.

I know what It’s like to leave the only thing, the only tribe you know. To have to reinvent yourself. To realize that perfection isn’t what you really want after all.

Truly, all we want is to be human together.

Which, for Seven and I, is much more difficult than it seems.

If I had a Borg designation it would have been “Three of Three”.

It is a terrifying and completely isolating moment when you realize that you have become simply “One”.

One voice.

One decision maker.

One movie ticket.

One chair at a restaurant.

Especially for someone who had grown accustomed to and relied on the voices of the others.

Seven never gained back the entirety of her humanity. She remained always on the outside, if only by a smidge.

Human alone.

Because sometimes, that is simply the lot One is given.

Twenty-Two Things I’ve Learned From 22

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It’s my birthday again!

(AKA the most important day in American History :))

I’m 23 today… it’s one of those ages you never imagine being. Like turning 37 or 48. It’s not an exciting or super significant birthday, but boy am I glad it’s here!

Around this time every July, I start getting a sense of what the theme of the year is going to be for me.

For 21 my theme was “Brave”, for 22 it was “New”, both of which turned out to be extremely accurate. When I was 21 I made the bravest decision of my life, and then at 22 I executed that decision and it changed everything.

I got a completely new life.

A new job, a new hobby, a new perspective, and most importantly, a new fire within myself.

Some changes though, were not so positive.

This past year, I lost someone incredibly dear to me for reasons I still cannot understand. And that changed me too.

All of the faith I had left after my bravery poured from my body, escaping with the tears. And without faith, all that mattered was surviving.

So I did that. I survived.

I replaced the faith with steel, with hardness, with pain, grit and swear words. 22 was the most unimaginably painful year of my life, but I made it.

I became a warrior.

Fighting always for myself.

I now know my fierceness.

And because I have known it, I respect myself as a veteran of war.

22 took something from me that cannot be replaced, but then it gave me something that can never be taken away.

And now, thinking about 23 all that comes to mind is the word “happy”.

This will be my year of contentment, of thankfulness, and of re-planting the faith that was so brutally beaten out of me.

With that being said, I’d still like to say a proper goodbye to the year that changed everything. So, here are Twenty-Two things I learned from year 22. May I remember them well!

1. Taylor Swift and Peanut Butter can’t fix EVERYTHING but they can fix MOST things.

2. When a heart breaks, it don’t break even.

3. Siblings are one of the greatest gifts that God gives.

4. Loyalty is not a two way street.img_1262

5. Doing brave things doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid.

6. Summer always comes again.

7. Being young isn’t easy, but neither is being old.

8. People are something to be experienced, worlds to be explored.

9. The Mom is the angel of the family.

10. It is better to be impractical than to give up on an aspiration.

11. You can be your subjective view of “perfect” and still fail and lose miserably.

12. Never give up on yourself.

13. Tattoos hurt.

14. Sometimes a year can’t fill a jar.

15. Dreams, relationships, and sanity are all incredibly fragile.

16. Stretching is actually super important.

17. Delivering pizza in the snowpocalypse does not guarantee amazing tips.

18. You’ve gotta fall apart in order to build yourself better.

19. Everyone has to choose whether or not love is worth the pain, but no one really knows what the right choice is. (Cuz let’s be honest, who cares what a guy with a name like “Alfred” says)

20. Healing is possible.

21. You are only a victim if you allow yourself to be.

22. Everything will be all right if we just keep dancin’ like we’re 22. ❤

The Back of the Line

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I am a white belt in Tang Soo Do.

I’ve been a white belt for 2 ½ months.

My initial motivations for wanting to practice martial arts were numerous. Some reasons were physical, some were personal, and some were even a little silly. For instance, I wanted to be one step closer to being a Legend on the CW’s Legends of Tomorrow. Haha!

At the beginning and ending of every class, everyone gets into lines with all of the higher belts in the front line and all of the lower belts in the back. It’s hierarchical so, being the only white belt, my place is tacked onto the very end of the very last line.

And it’s one of my favorite places to be.

I know that might sound a little strange. Like, obviously the goal is to move up to the front of the line little by little year by year as you go up in rank.

But the truth is, I’m truly happy to be in the back of the line. Because for one thing, I can watch and see what everyone else is doing when I get confused!

But, more than that I’m proud.

Proud that I’m in the line at all.

Every time I stand in that place it’s a victory. Especially given that previous versions of myself would have never had the courage to stand there.

And so far, I’ve learned a lot from the back of the line.

I didn’t know how much I needed to be in that place until I got there. The back of the line is not a place for negativity or doubt, unlike so many of the other places I find myself in.

Instead, it’s filled with optimism, respect, inspiration, and room for growth.

Some days, getting to go to class and standing in the back of that line are the only things that make me feel ok again. In the midst of stress and grief and the persistent negativity that tends to invade my mind, I’ve got a place of focus.

So I’ll keep putting on that uniform and tying that white belt around my waist and striving to better myself from the inside out.

Today, right now, I just want to be the best white belt I can be and soak it all in from the back of the line. 😉 ❤

Unbroken

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I love music.

Not in the – “oh, this is a catchy song!” kind of way, but more in the – take me anywhere slowly, wrapped up in thrills, romancing with my soul kind of way. I could get lost in a song. It’s like each one is an alternate dimension, whisking me away on some ephemeral journey that lasts a lifetime within.

One of my favorite artists is a British alternative singer called Birdy. Her songs reserved for days of not being understood. Songs reserved for crying out all of my hopes, fears, and introverted passions. My very favorite song of hers is a lyrical masterpiece called “Unbroken.”

The first time I heard it, I felt like it had been written out of a breath I’d breathed. It was my song somehow. And it found me unbroken.

It was my quiet anthem in the dead of night. My reminder to keep my head up. A promise to myself to remain unbroken. But, then this happened. And now I will never be unbroken again.

I never used to understand why grown-ups were so serious. Where did that glimmer in their eyes run off to anyways? I couldn’t imagine why they were in such a wonder-less mood all the time. Today though, I know exactly why.

It’s this little thing called heartbreak.

There will come a day for all of us when we die at the mercy of caring about someone else. When that happens, you have no choice but to become something different.

Most of us turn into callouses, never to be scathed by such an evil again. Transforming into this guarded, untouchable, robot of a person is my greatest fear. But it’s also my greatest fear NOT to.

In reality, I know can’t fight it. It’s happening whether I want it to or not. My eyes are done glimmering. My nose will begin to love the smell of the grind more than it loves anyone or anything around it. And whatever it is that’s left in my chest, it’s not a heart.

So, now that song means something quite different to me. It’s not about being unbroken. Because no one stays that way for long. Instead, it is a call to strength from the things that used to be unbroken.

Yeah, your eyes don’t shine anymore, but they did once. And THAT can’t be taken away. Yeah, you gave it all. But it isn’t gone; it’s all right there where you left it. No, you’ll never be that beautifully innocent, heart-wide open child again. But she’s still alive.

Somewhere in the past, she lives. Unbroken.