It's Late, and I Don't Care

I'm writing this, because if I don't, I will combust.

It's funny how missing one person--one instance--turns into missing someone else; which turns into missing a whole group, which turns into missing a place, your childhood, happy times, and smiles. You miss the future you thought you had planned.

I instigated this, I should be happy. But I'm not. Because I must always blame myself. Because I would give anything to help you. I would do anything for you. Because that's who I am. I sugar-coat things in my mind. I think of the good things. I only pretend to be a pessimist; I'm a true optimist at heart, but only when it comes to other people. I do not see flaws in others, only in myself.

Which explains why I put up with so much abuse: I don't see it. My mind and heart were made to give grace. I make allowances for others when no one else does. Great qualities, to be sure, but not when it breaks you down, not when it sets you up for great hurt to yourself.

Sometimes you have to be selfish.

I blame myself.

But you know what? It's not my fault. I'm human and I make mistakes, but I was good; I was good to you. I forgave and gave grace when no one else would have.

I've been in denial these past few days (should I say years?) I'm stepping out on faith here. I've been too comfortable, willing to settle because I'm afraid of what lies ahead.

I won't settle. Someone will respect me enough someday to not ask me to change the things that are out of my control.

I'm a co-dependent. I have OCD, clinical depression, and an anxiety disorder. I'm needy and crazy, but someday, someone will love me for that. They'll look past all of that and see me for the person I am.

I am not defined by my imperfections, but rather by who God created me to be.