I just recently graduated Bible school (the school year was cancelled during spring break).

God had never spoken to me, and I doubted all the teachings I had been hearing in the year.

My classmates knew more than me and have had more God encounters than me.

I thought something was wrong with me; I felt so different.

I had talked to my mentor about it, and like everyone else, she told me to trust in Him and have faith.

One day while walking back to my room, along the path, a hummingbird flew next to me. I was overtaken by a feeling of serenity and pure joy. From a girl stuggling with depression, it's a moment I will never forget.

As soon as I got to my room, I contacted the directors wife and we sat down for some tea so I could tell her what had just happened. Now, everytime I see a hummingbird, I know it was sent for me to tell me I'm not alone.

Putrid spring season

Everything except me

Offered a fresh start

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

I needed to change.

I didn't want to be myself anymore.

My name was getting old and wearing down. Dust and sin were getting mixed into its reputation.

I needed to change. I needed a fresh start.

I wanted to cleanse myself from the weight and dirt placed on my name.

New name, new me, new feelings, new mind.

****************************************************************************************

Once my name was chosen, I started developping on my new identity. Media platforms were created with this name and all new accounts were made with the same information.

I am new.

I am now Jeremiah Wilson.

The world has so much to offer... though my life is slipping through my fingers.

I could sit and fantasize about the future, yet I turn to the past and focus on all I have missed out on.

In the time I think about that, I am losing more and more opportunities.

I'm scared that I won't live my life out to it's fullest. I'm really scared that, on my death bed, I'll look out onto my past life with regret.

I'm scared that my story will be filled with "If only I had done this..." or "If I wasn't so lazy that day".

I'm afraid of what lies ahead... but more so of what doesn't.

'

My home is and will always be found within myself.

Comfort is not easily found, much less when I am vulnerable.

In my home, I am safe.

In my mind, I am alone.

The murals along the wall, inspired by bittersweet memories

are now replaced with dark wallpaper.

Dust clings to the chairs, tables, floor as I stare mindlessly through the cracks between the boards nailed to my windows.

It’s dark, I’m alone, I’m stuck, I’m scared

But at least I know I’m safe.

I’m broken. I’m broken. I’m broken. I’m broken. I’m broken. I’m broken. I’m broken.

That has to be the explanation. I don’t fit anywhere...

I’m broken. I’m out of place. I’m out of place.

No one pays attention to my feelings because they think I’m fine.

How many times do I have to say I’m okay to admit that I’m not?

How many times do I have to say I’m okay to convince myself I am?

I’m not fine. I’m not okay. I don’t belong here. I have tried everything.

I’m broken.

I’ve been broken too much to be fixed.

I’m crawling through life begging for people to help, yet no one sees my cry. I’m not okay and I need to feel joy again without having it fade within an hour. I need peace and silence. I need these thoughts to silence and tears to cease. I need trandquility. But I’m broken. I can’t be fixed even if I wanted.

P.s. I usually only use notes to realease my negative thoughts as to not dissolve into tears. And so, I'm sorry if it's hard to understand or if it's different from other submissions.

As my burdens engulf me, there is only one thing I desire. There is only one thing I crave. Through the suffocation of emotions and transformation of my tenderness to weakness, I see my ticket out in the distance.

Sometimes I like to imagine I am close enough to touch my saving grace, though I could never kid myself. I’m stuck. The tears are ropes around my arms and legs, preventing me from moving towards recovery. The thoughts are iron bars, locking me into a cage with deadly weapons aiming at my temples.

Although, sometimes... Just sometimes... I like to think of freedom. It can be consoling to think of a place where your problems are just pigments of imagination.

However, if I look at the light too long, I lose sight of where I am and need to use my ropes to guide me back home.

Sometimes I think of freedom. Sometimes I crave freedom. Sometimes I beg for freedom.

Every time I crave freedom, I freefall deeper into sorrow.