It has come to my attention that many of you, yes you, even if you don’t know who I am, have gone to other people to find out how I’m doing.
You can’t ask me yourself, so you have to ask my friends. Or my mom. Or I guess you could ask me, but I wouldn’t tell you.
You don’t actually want to know, do you? You just want to gossip. You want a spectacle. You want something/someone to point at and go ‘look at her life, it’s worse than mine.’ You want a story, to be entertained. That’s all you want, right? You don’t actually care about me. You’re not asking out of love. You’re not trying to honestly figure out how I’m doing because you care so why should you get to know? I won’t be your spectacle. I won’t be your gossip or your horror story.
But what I realized last night is maybe you actually do care. Maybe you actually do love me and you genuinely, honestly, want to know how I am.
Her voice purred, lingering in my ears more than the loudest song. She blinked, eyelashes painting her cheek in a swift motion. I watched her skin pull against her muscles, screaming strength and scaring away cowardice. She walked with grace, feet constantly balanced, aware of the world around her.
You’re unsure if you should approach, her beauty intimating you into surrender. Your body screams at you to reach out, touch her, feel her soft coat under your fingertips. You hold your hand back, clenching it into a fist to stifle the desire. She bares her teeth and you take a step back. She dares you to come closer, enter her space, become one in her world. Try it. Try to tame her.
I dare you.
She is pure, clean, and fierce, a beautiful contradiction. A being of opposites. A creature of habit afraid of change. She is gentle, strong, cautious and brave. Her soft purr is louder than the most powerful roar.
She watches me, making me want to stand up straight and follow her into a den of danger. I would give her my life. Allow her to move me forward. Close my eyes. Blindly follow. She smiles, glistening teeth brighter than stars. Magnificent beauty that I can’t seem to wrap into words.
I have an addictive personality. I firmly believe that if I had been born into different circumstances, with a different family, different values, and didn’t know the Lord, then I would be an extremely different person now. I would probably be addicted to all kinds of drugs, have no money to buy those drugs, and more unattractive things.
However, I was blessed enough to be born in the life I was born in. I was given the family I have and I’ve known the Lord since I was a kid.
But that doesn’t mean I suddenly don’t have an addictive personality.
Because I do.
I’m just not addicted to drugs or sex or alcohol. I’m addicted to other… weirder things. Continue reading →