It feels weird to even say "i feel this way" or to even title this, I just can't really put to words whats been recently inside my head. I don't know what "i dont feel like myself is" because I've never come to terms with feeling "myself" as a general consistent description of who I am, "myself" is just an everchanging version of a constant line. And I think if I've presumed somethings changed, I've put "myself" in a certain category that is free from constraint of change, in other words. I manipulate that word. Whatever I have been..generally, I feel lately as though I am outside of it. I don't know what's going on. Never so badly have I just wanted to rest for like 2 weeks straight, to just be entirely alone with God. I feel so worked up when I think of everything I have to do, and then doing it just bring on thinking about the other things I have to do after. Last Wednesday I started working on finishing a half-done painting at 9 am. I skipped all of my classes that day in an effort to get it done. 5 pm rolls around and I finally put on the finishing touches, thats about 8 hours worth of non-stop painting, something so relaxing yet the strain behind wanting it done right and wanting to get done faster was like trying to listen to a symphony and ride a roller coaster at the same time. It was nice to have a break where i felt the physical ability of my body and what I'm able to do, up until this point i've just been sitting in front of a computer or writing. I started with a blank canvas, and ended with a painting. Theres something really amazing about that. Anyway, i got done with the painting and immediately left to go to the library as I also had a 10 page paper to write. 6:45am rolls around and I finally print off the paper. I would have been plain tired up until this point, but there was something extra, something about how every day that week was spent going going going. I didn't stop to rest once, I got up in the morning, got ready and immediately began all of the tasks in a day. Yet this day, I had also been on my hands and knees for several hours, straining my neck, my back, my eyes. Then I spent the whole night writing, writing about something I've had difficulty realizing for a really long time, trying to fathom emotions that were never particular to me. After a nap of about 2 and a half hours, I wake up, get ready real fast, load the painting on my bike and ride 20 minutes to school. I then explain to the class trying to hold back tears because of so much effort into this painting and so much heart, so much thought, and just..explaining it to someone I feel gives a little bit of it away, gives a little of your heart away. It was really hard. Why am I so introverted? It was hard, but so, so good. People enjoyed it actually, and I gave it to my teacher as a gift. That day I was also behind on reading so I finished most of that up in between classes and turned in another very important paper I had been working on prior to that day, somehow after my last class I just felt such a burden lift. Even though it was thursay, and there was still one last day in the week, I had the majority of everything done and went to bed knowing it. This weekend has kind of reinstilled everything I was thinking in the process of doing all of these things, that somehow I had a right to be tired and feel a cross between anxiety and physical pain and hurt, and isolation. But the more I think about it now I have pinned every one of my efforts on myself, and didn't question whether I needed help, or I needed to talk to someone else, or I needed..anyone.I just knew whatever I had to do, I had to do it alone. Theres a really significant conceit in that, and I feel as though lately I'm slipping away from how great of a sacrifice God really gave to me, to everyone. I feel as though that sacrifice slips away in the meander of difficult situations. Yes it seems so horrible that God laid his life down for my sin, but it doesn't seem as bad when you've gone two days without sleep, are physically and mentally drained, are challenging your own insanity, and wondering why despite your greatest efforts, you are still considered average, the defeat in that. It seems as though within the pain, the real pain of all of that, I don't consider once that that is just a fraction, not even a visible part of whole reality of pain within this world. Like me feeling such weight, (and even though this seems trivial if read, there is more behind the words than actually said) is to me one of the most hard things ive had to find a way to endure, and this isn't even a glimpse of all the pain in the world. and in that, God knew that, and he knew that pain. he knew it, he knows it, he did it. It's something to see that kind of pain, but to know it- to actually know the repercussions. How can I ever think that my life is but a pity, that my life is something to be sad about, when my Savior saved me. Every inch of confidence I have, detracts from his suffering, but every weakness I have is perfected in his grace. If i forget at all what it means, I can no longer say I'm a Christian. I can no longer profess to believe in God if somehow that cross has diminished in value.

I don't know why I sin so much. And I don't know why God forgives me.

But He does.

my mind breaks in the ink of a pen

everything I write is a contradiction, I find myself more immersed in an author, so fixed that I forget my opinion matters. So I write, and I write, and I write, and then I look at it, and its all a lie. I think this will literally drive me mad. It's such a weird thought when you question if your fingers are actually on par with your head, say my mind is thinking something differently right now to what my fingers are typing? Isn't that what we do a lot of the time? We think something..and then our fingers censor it? I wonder if in the time it took for a thought to reach my hands from my brain, if my perspective changed. I hate when you can't go through an entire sentence without thinking its too vague, its too incomplete, that word is obscure, people might not know what i mean, is this commonsensical?

I used to think I could write "I don't like being a girl" and get away with it, now when I look at that I think is it the principal of girl that i don't like? or what i've seen in a common "girl" is what i don't like? Or i don't like having a girl body, a girl's physical makeup? Now, when I look at that, I realize that girl's commonly act in a way to be desired, not TO desire, but their desire lies in the attention theyre getting from satisfying someone else's desire. They don't, a lot of the times, respect themselves for a real individual person with thoughts, fears, hopes, and dreams, rather they see what makes others happy, they see themselves in others. That's what made me not like being a girl, because it was lonely to think I couldn't like myself.

But i do, and now I'm proud to be a girl.

i don't know how i got there. from there.

anyway.