In The Beginning...

I used to have a livejournal when I was 18. It was eventually deleted after having forgotten about it for a few years. It would be fun to look at the day to day events in my life, but for the most part I am relieved that all of the crushes, heartbreak, and general dumbassedness has been wiped clean. Those are not years that I am particularly proud of.

I was just remembering that I texted someone once, a boy, "come get me". It must have been two in the morning. He was far, far away, no idea exactly where. I didn't know him very well and I don't know him at all anymore. He wrote back "where are you?" We always had a connection that pulled us toward one another. At least, I was always pulled toward him and he always seemed to be waiting for me. The last time I saw him, the spell was broken. I still check up on him now and again, to see where he is in life. But I like to remember what it feels like to find someone that gives you that rush of fear and joy. I wrote in my old journal hoping that he would keep needing me and for a long time he did.

Well, it's seven years later. I'm 25. I have just moved back to New York after a two year hiatus. I am slowly going insane, so I needed an outlet to discuss, with myself I guess, what is going on in my life. I am in fashion school which has turned out to be my own personal hell. My apartment is uncomfortable and I have a tense relationship with my roommates. My friends, boyfriend, and even my dad are sick of hearing me complain. So I figure with a journal, maybe I can stop verbalizing it. This might also stop me from internalizing how hurt I am that no one wants to hear me talk about my depression. I think you can learn to live with things. As long as you know when to ask for help, you can learn to live with anything.

I went to church this morning. It's off 15th st. I haven't been to a Quaker church in years. It's never weird to go to a Quaker church for the first time. No one pays any attention to you. They all have their eyes closed in prayer. I haven't sat down and had a real talk with God in quite some time, so you'd think I would have a lot to say, a laundry list of sorts, but no. At the midpoint I was praying to God to make a clock appear in my head to see if it was over yet. An hour in silence is a long, long time. It was good for me though. I felt good today. When I pray, I feel like can clearly react to things. I need to join a Bible study to make any steps forward. I used to be able to read the Bible on my own and it would open for me like I had the key. Now I hardly have the attention span to read it at all. I left California without a Bible. I have to pull it up on the internet. What kind of Christian am I? Natalie, my best friend, asked me today if I hear God when I pray. I do. I also told her that it took a really long time before I heard God. I did all the talking for at least 6 months. Maybe a year.

My roommate has her friend over and they are cackling upstairs. This apartment has paper thin walls. My nerves are on edge. I need to go to sleep. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow. Great.