Everyone has a jerk inside their head.
INTP: Constantly talking down to everyone, just to prove that you’ve read more books than they have.
“I’m an INFP, not some hippie princess cinnamon roll that cries in the corner 90% of the time and frolics through meadows the other 10%.”
SO relevant. Beautiful!!
Once again, this is not the song from Disney’s hit film Frozen, but is James Bay’s song Let It Go covered by a rising YouTube star Jason Chen. Jason Chen has a great voice. It definitel…
Things didn’t go how I expected (EVER), if rarely at all, and I am still reeling from the shock, loss, and hurt of it all.
thigs didn’t go how I expected, and I’m hurt. I’m hurting.
My friend asked me if I was ‘sure I wasn’t sad’ and I said I was okay and better. But deep down, I think she could be right. How do I even articulate that when no one wants to hear it? Why talk to brick walls? Why talk to people if things still won’t go the way I expect? Do I then just expect everything to fall apart and hurt me in defense, so I’m safe from my stupid ‘perfect’ dream world?
I KNOW my feelings are too intense and STUPID. I hear that in
my head a lot.
I guess if I was free to fully feel em and fall apart (believe me, I think I’d go crazy), but hopefully it would be easier to get GOING in life and not being such an unforgiving, bitter, unChristian, evil, prideful, disgusting sinner…like I would move on.
The weight and duty of responsibility on my soul covers up and even drives the fear and deep sting of never being good enough, failing and being alone with no one to take care of me or care. Just forced to look at my own eyes in the mirror instead of a reflection.
and live with myself.
I don’t want to be me.
I think the reality of life is more of the ups and downs
(as much as I don’t want to admit it.)
And how does one, (or in my case),
me, I guess….
ever DEAL with that….
inconstantness that’s not the permanence or
or eternal reality of
my own thoughts, feelings?
I mean, I really do suppose….
that it’s probably the words that I wrap this reality of mine up in.
And connect it with others.’
What language I use to frame my own existence;
for better or for worse,
for good or for evil…..
for death or for life.
God help me.
This task seems momentously looming.
If you won’t make it a little…smaller….
Make me a little, stronger. More pliable.
More bending to your control, or wishes….
I need a savior; please make it you.
Not the world anymore.
Rip me away.
My soul from all of this…mess. From the
fear confusion lust lies….
all of it, all
playing in my head.
Just please. Give me faith to trust you.
Give me an ounce of willingness to trust you.
The words to say, or things to think, or trust to depend on…..
not even the ‘love to feel’
just the ability to cling to you.
Instead of the shipwrecked storm of my own life;
being tossed in this raging sea of myself.
Just give me some light;
I beg you.
I can’t stand this darkness.
Help me see.
Can you really set me free?