8.11.2014

because you are too precious to be left alone in the dark.

To Write Love on Her Arms

before i let you read this, i'm going to explain it. because i think it's worth explaining. so i'm starting college two weeks from tomorrow (or today, depending on how long it takes me to publish this post), and mom and i are doing some much needed organization. we've put a new desk in my room and a bookcase, and we cleaned everything off the floor and moved it into the office. the office already has a lot of stuff in it, but that's not the point. the point is, while i was cleaning i found several loose pieces of paper in the stacks of things i left next to my bed. it was dated april 5th 2013, which is, coincidentally, helayna's birthday. i started it at precisely 1:01am. and this is what it said. word for word. 

i make a lot of mental notes that i expect myself to remember even after long periods of time, and for the most part i don't. but the pieces to this fell into place so seamlessly it almost scared me. i wrote this for the person i would call my best friend. i didn't know who they were at the time (but i do now), and i think that's why this hits me the way it does. i cried when i read it because i remember how i felt when i wrote it. i felt lonely beyond words. and i'm posting it here for the girl who may not remember what the opposite of loneliness feels like. here is her secret, and here are my words. please understand that this poetry (but it's not even poetry tonight, it's my soul crying) is an interpretation of what these people are feeling. please understand that it is very real, and it is not always beautiful. loneliness is never beautiful, and no one deserves that. especially not this beautiful girl. i need to stop talking and let you read. if you don't read anything else on my blog that's fine. i don't mind. but this is important. 
"I sit in crowded rooms, surrounded by people. Nobody is alone or lonely because they all have someone to talk to, who loves them and they love back. They talk, talk, talk, overlook me. I am the only one without someone true to me, someone who loves me as much as I hate myself. I hate myself so much, so much that it explains why nobody loves me. It's hard to love this girl who hates herself. This girl that sometimes breaks her skin on those thighs she hates. Her thigh gap will never be good enough to her until it is the largest. Her thighs are her cutting board. But this girl has panic attacks over swimming because then people will see her thighs. This girl, with her eating disorder, who has always been thin, seems okay to everyone else. That is why they hate her. They think she is doing fine. She will quote them, here: "No offense, but I kind of feel as if you're using your eating disorder as an excuse. " No offense, what a lie. It's a mask to try and hide the cruelty, almost as sharp as her razor blade, but the mask is transparent. An excuse, oh sure. I just got a disorder so I could get out of gym class and go to the nurse. Right. I chose to ruin my life just to back up a point. And they wonder why I hate it when they make fun of disorders and don't know why I won't do them favors. Maybe if they hadn't made me hate myself I wouldn't punish myself. And I know this is just another published comment because I know I'm not worth listening to, let alone talking to. But a reply comment would literally make my day. People who talk to me astound me."
here's the thing:

i will not promise that i won't ever judge,
because i think it's my duty to distinguish what i believe is right and wrong.
but,
i will always have a landline available for you to leave hasty and fragmented (or long and analytical) messages (because i can't promise i will always pick up the phone).
but when i do, i will always manage to keep it pressed to my ear though i may be cooking, changing clothes, or composing on the piano. 
thing is:
i want to be there. i want you to be able to tell me your darkest & deepest secrets and your musings and rants. i want to be able to suggest methods of brewing tea (or coffee) and scriptures that will explain things better than i can. 
and i always want to have my key in the door, ready to shelter you from the literal or symbolic torrent of rain. 
i will slap you when you need it. 
i will tickle you when you least expect it. 
i will murmur song lyrics (but only those written by coldplay) into your arms that strain the underlying melody that i love you, even more than "keep calm & carry on" memorabilia. 
my hands are always ready to brush your hair back, straighten the hold of your button-down, cup and caress your face and travel the world (that is your back) with the wingspan of my arms as if to say --
i am not perfect.
you are not perfect. 
but i will let you in my door, i will feed you, i will find you, because you are too precious to be left alone in the dark. 

to the girl who is astounded by people who talk to her: i love you. i love you so much. i don't know your name or who you are but i can honestly tell you i love you, and i believe that you are so beautiful. you have been made by a God who loves you so much sometimes He is astounded. He didn't make anyone else like you. you are worth more than all of the nice things this world has to offer. and i believe you have a love in you that shines brighter than a star in supernova. you can do this. i wouldn't tell you that if i didn't know that. maybe you don't know that, but it's a learning process. and i'm willing to learn with you. you can always talk to me, okay? i'm right here. i'll say it again: i love you. i do. 

9 comments :

  1. tears. no words. just tears. <3

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  2. this post is so great...yup, no other words...

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  3. :O Your posts always astound me and leave me speechless.

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  4. i'm not crying. i'm not crying. i'm not crying.

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  5. This is beautiful (despite what you say) and I wish I knew you in person. it's good to know there's honest, real people out there who aren't afraid to hide.

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  6. Jocee....oh my goodness. Wow.

    Words are your gift.

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sometimes i do not understand why you guys like me so much, but the fact that you do (and that you keep coming around) makes me happier than you can even imagine.

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