getting there.

getting-there
She walked into her house and before she could greet her roommate, she collapsed to the ground. Her head collided with the floor making a heart crushing sound. The world moved around her solitary body, as sounds increased around her. Cassie and others pulled towards her like gravity. They were chirping her name trying to wake her from her slumber, but nothing helped.

As the ambulance arrived panic had only increased. The adrenalin in the room increased as her limp body was lifted off the floor. For a strong person, she had never seemed so frail. In the 10-mile drive from her house to the hospital her heart stopped twice. Someone that young, that healthy, that vibrate shouldn’t stop beating.

The doors to the E.R ripped open to doctors ready to receive her quiet body. She heard them. The sound of medical terms, medical facts, and medicine being pupped in her, but nothing would pass her lips. They were still, holding tight to her teeth. The world was moving so quickly they had missed her eyes open, they had missed her grasping for someone’s hand, they have missed her.

facing reality.

21 hours.

Plus three hours of lab

Plus going to schools to start student teaching.

Equals not enough time in the day.

Or, not sleeping

Or, just slowly crumbling from the idea of not being able to meet deadlines and expectations.

 

So, now I’m just going to do 18 hours.

I’m a lot happier.

a letter to you

You,

I really needed you the most this past year. I needed you to be there and be around and be my shoulder when I couldn’t do it alone. I needed you. I have needed you for a year and half now and you have been nowhere to be found.

I told you to be a friend. I told you to pay attention to the world outside your relationship. I told you I would be here waiting. But it hurts. It hurts when people ask about you and I can’t answer. It hurts when you come to Austin and leave without a whisper. It hurts because I lost my best friend.

I get it if he is now your best friends. But you are still mine. You are the person I tell my secrets too. The one I explode on with information. The one who holds my deepest fears and worst failures. The one who knows what I have been through.

You have missed so much, and so have I. When did we become the people, who don’t speak? When did we become the people, who ask others for information? When did we get here? How did we get here?

I don’t want to be here, but I can’t fix this by myself. I won’t pour my heart into this if there is no one there who cares? I won’t devote my time to something that I know will fail. I can’t. Not anymore.

I’ve waited. I’ve tried. You’ve been silent.

 

From, me

just a little soap box

I’m catholic.

Now, that comes with a lot of baggage. I’m sure you’re thinking of quite a few right now, but stop. I’m just here to say this…

No where in any Christian religion does it say you have to be perfect. No where does it say screwing up is not allowed. I was told once that in order to follow Jesus, you had to be sinner. Let’s just say I got a lot of comfort from this.

 

This isn’t mine, but I wanted to share it.

What Jesus Didn’t Ask –A Letter To The Girls Next To Me At The Gym