this one's dedicated to you jerkface.
What does it take
(c) 2007
I met a guy who treated me differently than everyone else
said I was special, that i was somethin else
I fell in love with him, thought we shared a future
He said he felt the same way
but couldn’t love me anymore
What does it take to fall out of love
How long will it take for this heartache to end
How many times will I have to hear you say, I’m sorry I can’t love you this way
How long before I meet someone else to wipe away my tears
To tell me I’m beautiful, that everything will be okay
To love me and be by my side, to share a life with
What does it take
to heal a broken heart
Girl it breaks my heart to see you this way
I still love you but in a different way
Please know I never meant to hurt you B
It’s just as hard for me to see you this way
This is my prayer, that I may find peace
But until time restores my heart this is my cry
Friday, December 7, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Let's take a walk on the darkside.
He woke up with piss and crp everywhere, all over him. The aroma only reminded him of what he's just tried to do. For some reason, God still wanted him alive. I can't even imagine what it must have felt like, waking up three days later, soaked in dried urination and crp, the smell, the coldness, the darkness, most of all, being ALONE. And worst, having no one know and realize what had just happened. 20 Tylenol pills obviously wasn't enough, perhaps he should have tried harder.
Again, alone, feeling the wrath of darkness tightening it's embrace around his heart, he buys a 40 oz. pack of beers. As he gets in the car, he screws off the top off one bottle and lets the beer drown his throat, all the while one hand on the wheel. The one bottle becomes a second, a third, fourth, a fifth. He drives around campus and starts yelling out the window to the people walking by. "Fck you, mother fckers!!!" People just stare back with a look of surprise and pity. He was jealous, angry at these people he's never met. Jaelous for their happiness, bitter at their carefree lives. One hand on wheel and the other on his drink, he proceeds: his destination tonight is to drink like a mother fcker and die like one. He gets on the highway and by this time he's swerving left to right, angry bitter tears running down his face. By now, he's slit his wrists bloody. Blinded by tears, he continues to swerve. Intoxicated? Driving? He doesn't care. He has nothing to lose. He doesn't think about the other people he is putting in danger for his selfish acts. His mission tonight is to die and if that means drinking and wreckless driving, let it be done.
Suddenly the car behind him starts honking at him, trying to get his attention. It repeatedly honks and the driver pulls to the side of his car telling him to pull over. For some reason, he listens. He pulls over and the driver comes out of the car. The crazy one steps out of his car too. "Look, I have no idea what you're going through, but PLEASE, don't kill yourself tonight. Sober up, and just go home." And the crazy driver is silent. He's just crying hysterically now. Drenched with tears, the stench of alcohol penetrating the air, he's just a baby now.
The driver left and the crazy one just stood still for ten minutes then got back into his car.
Is there something not ironic about this? Obviously there is a greater power out there that still wants to protect him. Why? I don't know why. He's pulled many of these attempts yet he fails each time. Is it just a mere coincidence or God in the working? I'm still in awe and disbelief, blessed with the man who had enough courage to pull the drunk aside. He was fully aware that by doing so, he was putting himself in great risk; this drunk can be some violent man who'll just rage against him, attack him. Yet, he had the nerve and heart to pull him aside. To me, that's something. That's an angel. I'd like to believe that.
Well, that crazy driver, the foolish one behind all these stunts, that's my friend. He visited me this weekend. I met him while I was at Calvin College my freshman year. I'll tell ya, his three days here with me in Greenville was the best I've had in a really long time. No, no romantic feelings attached at all. All we did this weekend was talk. Talk before bed,talk in car, talk walking, talk sitting, talk eating. Talk, talk, talk. I have a lot of good guy friends who I can really relate to and have deep intimate relationships with. But it felt different. I just felt this connection, we were able to relate to each other in a way I can't even describe. After he left, I felt an immediate mellowness. I realized that I spent the whole weekend laughing. And I realized, hey, wow. I haven't laughed in a long time. Not those simple "haha's" in response to something. I'm talkin, "hahahah, hahaha, hahaha." And after he was gone it felt weird. I was alone and quiet again. I wasn't laughing at something. I almost felt depressed. As the day went on I felt more mellow and more down. Why was that? I guess I just truly cherished the moment we shared, that intimacy I've been craving for with him I finally got. And then he vanished.
We were never that close, but it was one of those "Oh, I really like this guy, I want to reach out to him, a deeper relationship." The first time I met him was at the church lock-in. We were all gathered around sitting in a circle doing/talking about something I don't remember, when in walked let's call him... "Sam. He walked in mumbling something random and went into the next room. It was nothing unusual or weird, suspicious, but I guess something was wrong because one of the guys got up and went to him. Immediately I felt something was not right. And I know I was the only one in the room who sensed that something was not right. Everyone else was oblivious to it.
Later, after the night was over I found in a dark corner of some steps. His head down on his hands, the only thing I felt right then was a wave of compassion and love for him, as well as sorrow. I made my way towards him, and introduced myself (according to him). I must have said something right though `cause to this day, he tells me how I've shown him love. That my reaching out to him really affected him. The only thing I remember saying to him at the time was something like, "Blabla, I don't know what you're going through, but...God...blablala."
He told me at first he was like, ok, who the heck is this girl, and thought he would get angry, cause normally he would. But with me, it felt different. He really appreciated it. And I'm just so thankful that I was able to be at least that little of a light to him that night.
All weekend he said such flattering things. "You're such a good person."
Remember that night you first talked to me? You were an angel."
"That night." Referring to the lock-in. He was depressed. He was drunk when he made that entrance to the church. It wasn't until this past year I really learned of his past. He's been depressed his whole life-manic depression to be more specific. Manic depression makes him crazy. Ups and downs with all sorts of crazyness. Suicidal attempts, snaps, etc, etc. And it wasn't until `bout half year ago he found out that he was bipolar. Poor child. You know, when one is depressed, people always do the "It's your choice to be sad or happy. It's what you make of life. You're only depressed cuz you spend so much time self-absorbed focusing on all the negative aspects of life." Honestly, that is how I see it and still do to a certain point. But I still believe that it's unfair. Why did God create something like depression? This sick mental disease. Many people overlook depression as something they should just get over with. But it's more than that. It's as much of a disease as leukiemia or cancer. Depression can kill you. It's not fair one feels a constant darkness that he can't pull himself out of. Sure, with God to hold on to and trust one can pull himself right outta that hole. Sure sure miracles, but of course, with God anything is possible. It's still not fair. It's not that easy. What a horrid illness. To want that happiness, hopeless, and not being able to find it.
It makes me sad. That one must go through this. It's the worst feeling, dealing with all this especially alone. I know. I was once depressed. Not "in depression because something triggered it depressed" but "depression." I'm one of the few lucky ones because God has miraculously healed me from this sickness that none knew about. That doesn't mean I don't get depressed. I still can get depressed but only if I have a reason to be. Depression. It really does suck. You feel so invisible, tiny, hopeless, desperate for happiness. Suicide is your cousin and you think of ways to accomplish this evil task.
I don't really know the point of this blog.
All I know, is that I will always have "Sam" in the back of my mind, worrying about his safety, his well-being. Will he ever make it? Fight and fight and finally conquer this sick deathly illness that drives many to suicide? Will he be the few and proud to make it? I guess I will never know. Only the future does. And that's something we shouldn't always dwell on. That itself can be an obsession.
Well, I guess I'll leave it at there for tonight. Oh beloved world, my heart aches and goes out to all those that are hurting. I ache with you. I mourne with you. I wish there was a way that I could reach out to each and everyone of you. But I can't. I just can't. May you all find the peace you've been desperately aching for.
Again, alone, feeling the wrath of darkness tightening it's embrace around his heart, he buys a 40 oz. pack of beers. As he gets in the car, he screws off the top off one bottle and lets the beer drown his throat, all the while one hand on the wheel. The one bottle becomes a second, a third, fourth, a fifth. He drives around campus and starts yelling out the window to the people walking by. "Fck you, mother fckers!!!" People just stare back with a look of surprise and pity. He was jealous, angry at these people he's never met. Jaelous for their happiness, bitter at their carefree lives. One hand on wheel and the other on his drink, he proceeds: his destination tonight is to drink like a mother fcker and die like one. He gets on the highway and by this time he's swerving left to right, angry bitter tears running down his face. By now, he's slit his wrists bloody. Blinded by tears, he continues to swerve. Intoxicated? Driving? He doesn't care. He has nothing to lose. He doesn't think about the other people he is putting in danger for his selfish acts. His mission tonight is to die and if that means drinking and wreckless driving, let it be done.
Suddenly the car behind him starts honking at him, trying to get his attention. It repeatedly honks and the driver pulls to the side of his car telling him to pull over. For some reason, he listens. He pulls over and the driver comes out of the car. The crazy one steps out of his car too. "Look, I have no idea what you're going through, but PLEASE, don't kill yourself tonight. Sober up, and just go home." And the crazy driver is silent. He's just crying hysterically now. Drenched with tears, the stench of alcohol penetrating the air, he's just a baby now.
The driver left and the crazy one just stood still for ten minutes then got back into his car.
Is there something not ironic about this? Obviously there is a greater power out there that still wants to protect him. Why? I don't know why. He's pulled many of these attempts yet he fails each time. Is it just a mere coincidence or God in the working? I'm still in awe and disbelief, blessed with the man who had enough courage to pull the drunk aside. He was fully aware that by doing so, he was putting himself in great risk; this drunk can be some violent man who'll just rage against him, attack him. Yet, he had the nerve and heart to pull him aside. To me, that's something. That's an angel. I'd like to believe that.
Well, that crazy driver, the foolish one behind all these stunts, that's my friend. He visited me this weekend. I met him while I was at Calvin College my freshman year. I'll tell ya, his three days here with me in Greenville was the best I've had in a really long time. No, no romantic feelings attached at all. All we did this weekend was talk. Talk before bed,talk in car, talk walking, talk sitting, talk eating. Talk, talk, talk. I have a lot of good guy friends who I can really relate to and have deep intimate relationships with. But it felt different. I just felt this connection, we were able to relate to each other in a way I can't even describe. After he left, I felt an immediate mellowness. I realized that I spent the whole weekend laughing. And I realized, hey, wow. I haven't laughed in a long time. Not those simple "haha's" in response to something. I'm talkin, "hahahah, hahaha, hahaha." And after he was gone it felt weird. I was alone and quiet again. I wasn't laughing at something. I almost felt depressed. As the day went on I felt more mellow and more down. Why was that? I guess I just truly cherished the moment we shared, that intimacy I've been craving for with him I finally got. And then he vanished.
We were never that close, but it was one of those "Oh, I really like this guy, I want to reach out to him, a deeper relationship." The first time I met him was at the church lock-in. We were all gathered around sitting in a circle doing/talking about something I don't remember, when in walked let's call him... "Sam. He walked in mumbling something random and went into the next room. It was nothing unusual or weird, suspicious, but I guess something was wrong because one of the guys got up and went to him. Immediately I felt something was not right. And I know I was the only one in the room who sensed that something was not right. Everyone else was oblivious to it.
Later, after the night was over I found in a dark corner of some steps. His head down on his hands, the only thing I felt right then was a wave of compassion and love for him, as well as sorrow. I made my way towards him, and introduced myself (according to him). I must have said something right though `cause to this day, he tells me how I've shown him love. That my reaching out to him really affected him. The only thing I remember saying to him at the time was something like, "Blabla, I don't know what you're going through, but...God...blablala."
He told me at first he was like, ok, who the heck is this girl, and thought he would get angry, cause normally he would. But with me, it felt different. He really appreciated it. And I'm just so thankful that I was able to be at least that little of a light to him that night.
All weekend he said such flattering things. "You're such a good person."
Remember that night you first talked to me? You were an angel."
"That night." Referring to the lock-in. He was depressed. He was drunk when he made that entrance to the church. It wasn't until this past year I really learned of his past. He's been depressed his whole life-manic depression to be more specific. Manic depression makes him crazy. Ups and downs with all sorts of crazyness. Suicidal attempts, snaps, etc, etc. And it wasn't until `bout half year ago he found out that he was bipolar. Poor child. You know, when one is depressed, people always do the "It's your choice to be sad or happy. It's what you make of life. You're only depressed cuz you spend so much time self-absorbed focusing on all the negative aspects of life." Honestly, that is how I see it and still do to a certain point. But I still believe that it's unfair. Why did God create something like depression? This sick mental disease. Many people overlook depression as something they should just get over with. But it's more than that. It's as much of a disease as leukiemia or cancer. Depression can kill you. It's not fair one feels a constant darkness that he can't pull himself out of. Sure, with God to hold on to and trust one can pull himself right outta that hole. Sure sure miracles, but of course, with God anything is possible. It's still not fair. It's not that easy. What a horrid illness. To want that happiness, hopeless, and not being able to find it.
It makes me sad. That one must go through this. It's the worst feeling, dealing with all this especially alone. I know. I was once depressed. Not "in depression because something triggered it depressed" but "depression." I'm one of the few lucky ones because God has miraculously healed me from this sickness that none knew about. That doesn't mean I don't get depressed. I still can get depressed but only if I have a reason to be. Depression. It really does suck. You feel so invisible, tiny, hopeless, desperate for happiness. Suicide is your cousin and you think of ways to accomplish this evil task.
I don't really know the point of this blog.
All I know, is that I will always have "Sam" in the back of my mind, worrying about his safety, his well-being. Will he ever make it? Fight and fight and finally conquer this sick deathly illness that drives many to suicide? Will he be the few and proud to make it? I guess I will never know. Only the future does. And that's something we shouldn't always dwell on. That itself can be an obsession.
Well, I guess I'll leave it at there for tonight. Oh beloved world, my heart aches and goes out to all those that are hurting. I ache with you. I mourne with you. I wish there was a way that I could reach out to each and everyone of you. But I can't. I just can't. May you all find the peace you've been desperately aching for.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Moving Forward
Dear God,
I'm trying, I've been trying.
People say I'm just infatuated with him, but I think it's more than that. I thought I moved on, I really did. I really did love him. I think I still do. Maybe I have moved on and what's left are the memories and the attachments, infatuation? It's not fair God. It's not fair. I've lived what I thought was an obedient life, patient, pure. It isn't fair, it's not right for him to have taken advantage of me, my innocent heart. I really don't think I deserve any of this heartbreak. God, I really thought we had a future together. I thought he was a blessing from you, from mom. I know that mom would have loved him as a future son-in-law.
God, I prayed and prayed. Never anything selfish, but always trusting in you and letting your will be done. Was it never part of your will then? Should I fight for it? Let it go? If it is part of your plan no matter the obstacles will you bring us together? I'm sorry God but I'm not sure I believe in that kind of stuff. I don't believe in the perfect one anymore. I don't know God. I'm sorry to feel all jaded on Love, I know that makes you sad. Love, one of the greatest gifts from you. Something you'd love to see happen with all of us.
God, let your will be done. I've always said it, and I won't ever stop. But please God, if this isn't part of your will, please show me God. I've asked you a thousand times to show me a sign, something, anything that will show me it's not part of your amazing plan for me. But I'm not sure I've gotten it yet. Please God, show me something. I'm desperate to move on and to let go. My hurts to be healed. All attachments loose. Gone away. This is my prayer God, my prayer to you. I am sorry I've been so consumed in this whole mess. This sick love that's destracting me from chasing after you, pursuing you. Glorifying you, praising you, loving you. This love is weighing me down, narrowing my perspectives, disillusioned with love. Jaded.
Forgive me Father for my selfish ways and purify my heart. Help me to be that lady of virtue, of integrity. Help me to love you. Sometimes though, it's hard to grasp you-living in the tangible world we live in now.
Father, I know you love me so much. No matter how low I am in life, how far I distance myself from you, I know that I am blessed with your grace. Your grace renews my heart, your grace loves me all over again. Your grace teaches me to love. Thank you.
Well it's getting pretty late. I should go now. Thank you for always listening to me, your weak, selfish, daughter. I'm in need of so much grace. Thank you, and thank you. In all things, I pray in Jesus name, Amen.
I'm trying, I've been trying.
People say I'm just infatuated with him, but I think it's more than that. I thought I moved on, I really did. I really did love him. I think I still do. Maybe I have moved on and what's left are the memories and the attachments, infatuation? It's not fair God. It's not fair. I've lived what I thought was an obedient life, patient, pure. It isn't fair, it's not right for him to have taken advantage of me, my innocent heart. I really don't think I deserve any of this heartbreak. God, I really thought we had a future together. I thought he was a blessing from you, from mom. I know that mom would have loved him as a future son-in-law.
God, I prayed and prayed. Never anything selfish, but always trusting in you and letting your will be done. Was it never part of your will then? Should I fight for it? Let it go? If it is part of your plan no matter the obstacles will you bring us together? I'm sorry God but I'm not sure I believe in that kind of stuff. I don't believe in the perfect one anymore. I don't know God. I'm sorry to feel all jaded on Love, I know that makes you sad. Love, one of the greatest gifts from you. Something you'd love to see happen with all of us.
God, let your will be done. I've always said it, and I won't ever stop. But please God, if this isn't part of your will, please show me God. I've asked you a thousand times to show me a sign, something, anything that will show me it's not part of your amazing plan for me. But I'm not sure I've gotten it yet. Please God, show me something. I'm desperate to move on and to let go. My hurts to be healed. All attachments loose. Gone away. This is my prayer God, my prayer to you. I am sorry I've been so consumed in this whole mess. This sick love that's destracting me from chasing after you, pursuing you. Glorifying you, praising you, loving you. This love is weighing me down, narrowing my perspectives, disillusioned with love. Jaded.
Forgive me Father for my selfish ways and purify my heart. Help me to be that lady of virtue, of integrity. Help me to love you. Sometimes though, it's hard to grasp you-living in the tangible world we live in now.
Father, I know you love me so much. No matter how low I am in life, how far I distance myself from you, I know that I am blessed with your grace. Your grace renews my heart, your grace loves me all over again. Your grace teaches me to love. Thank you.
Well it's getting pretty late. I should go now. Thank you for always listening to me, your weak, selfish, daughter. I'm in need of so much grace. Thank you, and thank you. In all things, I pray in Jesus name, Amen.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Left of you in me
Left of you in me
Verse1
Sometimes I cry when I think of you
They think I’ve moved on
But if they only knew
Your pictures I hold on tight to
Squeezing whatever memories
I have left of you
And I look in the mirror and try to see
What’s left of you in me
…..Do they see it??
Can you see it, can you feel it
When I do the things I do
Can you see her, can you feel it
She’s living inside of me
I try to hear your voice calling out my name
I miss you mom
That’s all I can say
And I’ll fight back the tears
Doing whatever I can
To always remember your face
And I look in the mirror and try to see
What’s left of you in me
…..Do they see it??
Oh the sun will rise, the sun will set
The years go by, the tears grow faint
Time will catch up for my rest
Then will I see you…
Then will I see you…
Can you see it, can you feel it
When I do the things I do
Can you see her, can you feel it
She’s living inside of me
What’s left of you in me...
Monday, August 20, 2007
If only
It's been about a year and 5 months since my mom passed away. Yet she still dwells in my thoughts, her scent still fresh on the tips of my nose, her voice just a memory away. I ache for her touch, I crave for the warmth in her heart, to cuddle with her in bed. I miss the memories of me complaining about my ugly feet hands and nose and her quickness in defending and scolding me,
"No Sarah, they're beautiful!"
"No mom, you're only saying that `cause you're my mom. Of course you think that."
"No way they're really pretty!"
I really miss it. I miss the way she'd compliment me when I supposedly looked nice.
"Oh my Sarah, you look so beautiful! You look so good in that!"
"You're the prettiest girl in the whole wide world!"
Who else would say this to me but my mother.
I'm pretty used to her absence by now. But it's still hard to grasp. It's still hard to believe. Especially after I think about the memories, her face, the conversations, experiences. I then wake myself up and realize I'll never see her again.
What hurts me the most, is how I always neglected her. Never giving her the quality time she ached for with her favorite and only child and daughter. Even through the 2 years of battling with the deadly disease and chemotherapy, I knew deep inside I should stay home and keep her company. I even delayed going to my dream school for a year to stay home and commute to a nearby school to take care of her. Only I ended up making more plans with friends, coming home late, leaving her empty and alone in the house everyday.
I never helped her once.
I wasn't there for her when she was probably feeling lonely, wanting company.
I wasn't there for her when she threw up all day.
Though she was fragile and sick, she managed to cook and provide dinner, clean the house, drive herself to chemotherapy.
I can't imagine what it would be like to have a daughter like me. She always mentioned that I never spend time with her and how I'd leaving everything I was doing to make time for a friend. What a jerk I am. How empty the house must have felt without my presence there with her. I don't know why she loved me so much.
If I could change the hands of time, I'd drop the world and spend every minute I could with her.
She longed for a relationship with me, to have mother to daughter talks, asked questions. I'd just shrug my shoulders and moaned in annoyance when she kept talking. Who does that? She longed for heart to heart talks but I shut her out. Not because I hated her, nor a bad relationship. We got a long great and I loved her dearly.
My heart is weighed by the guilt of my selfishness and lack of maturity. The lack of serving her, the lack of expressing my love to her whether with words or by actions. I will forever be scarred in my heart for never being the good daughter I should have been. A forgiveness that is redeemable by God, but never to myself.
Sigh.
If only.
It's always the matter of "If onlys."
This guilt soaks my face with tears, my pillow wet.
People think I've moved on. They forgot the tragedy. Of course they should. My silly character and over excitement proves to the world that I am strong, I've let go and embraced the past. Little do they know that I still think of her daily, my heart still heavy with guilt, hurt, brokenness. Missing her. My heart crying for her.
Mom. A word that will no longer be on the tips of my tongue. A word, name, a figure no other woman will be able to replace in the future.
I just want my mommy back is all.
If only.
-S.k
"No Sarah, they're beautiful!"
"No mom, you're only saying that `cause you're my mom. Of course you think that."
"No way they're really pretty!"
I really miss it. I miss the way she'd compliment me when I supposedly looked nice.
"Oh my Sarah, you look so beautiful! You look so good in that!"
"You're the prettiest girl in the whole wide world!"
Who else would say this to me but my mother.
I'm pretty used to her absence by now. But it's still hard to grasp. It's still hard to believe. Especially after I think about the memories, her face, the conversations, experiences. I then wake myself up and realize I'll never see her again.
What hurts me the most, is how I always neglected her. Never giving her the quality time she ached for with her favorite and only child and daughter. Even through the 2 years of battling with the deadly disease and chemotherapy, I knew deep inside I should stay home and keep her company. I even delayed going to my dream school for a year to stay home and commute to a nearby school to take care of her. Only I ended up making more plans with friends, coming home late, leaving her empty and alone in the house everyday.
I never helped her once.
I wasn't there for her when she was probably feeling lonely, wanting company.
I wasn't there for her when she threw up all day.
Though she was fragile and sick, she managed to cook and provide dinner, clean the house, drive herself to chemotherapy.
I can't imagine what it would be like to have a daughter like me. She always mentioned that I never spend time with her and how I'd leaving everything I was doing to make time for a friend. What a jerk I am. How empty the house must have felt without my presence there with her. I don't know why she loved me so much.
If I could change the hands of time, I'd drop the world and spend every minute I could with her.
She longed for a relationship with me, to have mother to daughter talks, asked questions. I'd just shrug my shoulders and moaned in annoyance when she kept talking. Who does that? She longed for heart to heart talks but I shut her out. Not because I hated her, nor a bad relationship. We got a long great and I loved her dearly.
My heart is weighed by the guilt of my selfishness and lack of maturity. The lack of serving her, the lack of expressing my love to her whether with words or by actions. I will forever be scarred in my heart for never being the good daughter I should have been. A forgiveness that is redeemable by God, but never to myself.
Sigh.
If only.
It's always the matter of "If onlys."
This guilt soaks my face with tears, my pillow wet.
People think I've moved on. They forgot the tragedy. Of course they should. My silly character and over excitement proves to the world that I am strong, I've let go and embraced the past. Little do they know that I still think of her daily, my heart still heavy with guilt, hurt, brokenness. Missing her. My heart crying for her.
Mom. A word that will no longer be on the tips of my tongue. A word, name, a figure no other woman will be able to replace in the future.
I just want my mommy back is all.
If only.
-S.k
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