Just me and my stories
It’s hard to suppress my hurt when it seems to be clawing up my throat. It crawls with so much anger that it makes me want to hurl.
Hurt and anger and love is the worst combination but one that seems to latch at one another.
hurt and love are difficult to ignore until love overpowers. There is no feeling stronger than love.
The enemy is constantly watching. It hates anything beautiful, anything that brings love. It doesnt rest. It perseveres. It cannot stand to see us happy. The brighter we shine with happiness, the more it is attracted to us and seeks to destroy it. It wants to suck out all the light into a black void. All we can do is persevere. God will not fail us. He will forever have our back. We just cannot give up on Him. His battles with the enemy is constant, so we have to help with that fight. Faith is hard to maintain when all seems lost, but I believe in His plans and know that there is a reason for everything. The enemy will make things appear to be lost at times, but God is always our marker to get back on the right road and keep moving forward.
I’ve had every chance to leave this town—the one I swore I’d never get stuck in. And yet, here I am. It’s not like I belong here. I don’t relate to anyone, don’t have much in common with anybody. Most days, it feels like I’m living in a place that was never meant for me. But no matter how far I try to go, my family pulls me back. They’re my everything, the only thing that makes this place feel less suffocating. Maybe I stay because, deep down, I know that no matter where I go, home isn’t a place—it’s them.
We’re all told not to care what people think—like it’s some switch we can just flip off. Just be confident! Do it for you! Cool, love that, but also… we’re wired to care. We dress a certain way, tweak a caption 12 times, or hesitate before posting because, deep down, we know someone’s watching. And yeah, in a perfect world, we wouldn’t give a damn. But in this world? We live in a constant loop of I don’t care vs. but what if they think… So maybe the real flex isn’t pretending we don’t care—it’s realizing we do and doing whatever we want anyway.