Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

Why am I?

The world tells you that you are nothing.

An insignificant little splotch of ink on the pages of their story.

Part of me believes that about myself.

That I don't matter.

Afterall I've spent most of my life treated that way by the ones that were supposed to love me.

But another part of me, the perhaps foolish part of me thinks otherwise.

The world will call you nothing, but God calls you His.

Chosen.

Wanted.

Loved.

I don't believe in fate.

I don't.

I believe that the creator of the universe had everything planned down to the second before He breathed this world into existence.

And by some miracle.

Some small chance.

I was a part of that plan.

I was created with a purpose.

So, I sit here now wondering why.

What is my purpose?

Why am I alive?

Why didn't my heart stop when my two-hour surgery faded to nine?

Why did I wake up from that?

Why did I wake up again today?

Why am I here at all? 

It's funny to think about really.

I've never done anything spectacular, nothing really out of the ordinary.

I know firsthand though, that the little things matter.

Small gestures the people around me probably didn't even think twice about, but those are the things that saved my life.

You never know what's going on inside someone's head.

You don't know the effect that your actions can have.

But the Lord does.

It weird for me to think about now.

How certain people are put in your life at the right time and say just the right things.

They probably don't even think about it afterwards.

But all of it was written in a script older than time itself.

I don't know why we exist, or what purpose we serve.

Why pain exists.

But I do know this.

Nothing is by mistake.

You and I we were not accidental.