Anxiety's a bitch.
Lol! I know, cursing is of the devil and blah blah blah but I'm serious. Anxiety. Is. A. Bitch.
The nastiest kind too. Like depression, it lurks. Around the corner, waiting to just grab your heart and squeeze. So fuck you anxiety.
Alright, I'm sorry Lord I just needed to get that off my chest.
Wait, one more thing, FUCK MENTAL ILLNESS.
Alright. I'm done.
*insert fake ass smile*
The more I write the angrier I get. Like... like... who do you think you are? Ruining my life? Ruining my religion? Slashing my hope? I want you gone, you're fucking evicted.
But of course, you always find someway to weasel your way back in. Like a bitch.
*deep breath*
We're supposed to cast all our fears and worries and doubts unto the Lord. And I try. I give him my anxiety, on a golden platter too! And yet it's still here.
And it's my fault, I'm pretty sure. Because even when I give it away, I hold on. What the fuck. I don't want it anymore.
DID YOU HEAR ME A-HOLE? I DON'T WANT YOU. Go the fuck home.
Which is in my mind right? But no, I... I gave it to the Lord.
And he is the caretaker. He'll heal me. Why hasn't he done it? Why won't he do it?
I feel crazy.
WHO DOESN'T WANT TO GO TO HEAVEN? Who actually considers hell so that they'll parish. Who doesn't want enteral life with the Lord? Eternal.
I can feel the panic attack coming on right now.
But God's got me. I know he does. He has too. He must. He won't leave me or forsake me. He's my strong tower. The rock on which I stand. He's the alpha and omega. He's the beginning and the end.
The end.
I want to cry. I want this heaviness off my chest. I want it gone. I want to breathe. I want to paint but I can't find my fucking paint.
Fuck.
Lord forgive me.
I've done bad things. Like really bad, like nasty things. Lust is a bitch too.
Tumblr is a vice.
Even as I type I'm thinking about it. My skin is tingling. I want it. Fuck.
The devil is a lie.
Fuck.
Why won't he leave me alone? I DON'T WANT YOU LUCIFER. The Lord is my shepherd.
The Lord is my shepherd.
I shall not want- with Him He will provide all my needs.
Somebody pray for me. Preferably a church mother. Someone who can pray these demons OUT.
Fuck.
Lmao, I don't even curse this much in real life.
Real life.
What the fuck is that?
I wanna be an artist.
I went to the alter today. (Random but I wanted you to know).
I wanna paint. I know I said it but I just have so many ideas. Too bad I suck. I SUCK.
I don't want to be broke. I want to be successful. I want galleries all over the world. I want to travel. I want a husband.
A. Hus. Band.
Someone to love me. Someone to want me. Someone who brightens my day with a text. Someone who's mine and I'm his. Here on this earth.
But I've gotta love God first. I do love God, trust me. I DO. But... but... he can't hug me. He can't kiss me. He can't love me like a husband should. He loves me like my creator should. And I appreciate it but you get what I mean.
I don't want what my parents have. They have that fake love and that shit is for the birds. I feel bad. My mom is sad. My dad is angry. Nothing is working.
The house has a downer vibe. I want to go to school but also I highkey hate all my friends.
What's up with that?
Was I not with them all the time. Is that the problem? I WANT A NEW LIFE. I want attractive friends with personalities that match mine. I want to be wanted.
I want to reach out. (I don't know why I typed this).
I want guy friends. I want them to make the first move, invite me places, be excited to see me. I want them to call my name, hop out of line just to give me a hug.
FUCK.
I want Joy. Peace. All over.
