Endings are always the beginning of something else

Days like these are finally here. Going to coffee shops and sitting by the bar with the glass windows and looking out. Not studying, but looking out. Looking at all the people running to catch a bus. All the girls with one too many shopping bags. All the couples too in love to care. I see it - a bit of myself in everyone. Don't you see it too? Maybe its just me, but somehow sitting alone in a coffee shop had never felt so good. 

All we need isn't love, but God.

“In that Giant Gap between who you want to be and who you really are, every other religion, including the evangelical church, tells you to “close the gap.” That’s religion.

Jesus is the only who said, “I will meet you where you are. I am running backwards through the gap to you. And we will walk this walk together, one step at a time, me in the lead, and I will be with you whether you feel me or not, always." 

Faith is being more and more sure of this reality, and it’s not being more sure that you’re sinning less. It’s never just running from sin, but running to Him.”

Worries of an introvert

Perhaps today was supposed to be a happy day, but sitting here at 12am I feel this sense of loneliness and melancholiness plaguing me. Hanging with the usual 3 is not always the best combination, given that somehow I always feel left out at some point. Am I being over sensitive?

"After high school, you realise you were only friends with some people because you saw them five times a week." 

Sometimes I wonder how true this is. After graduating from SA, reluctantly, how many friends, real ones, can I say I've actually made? The fact that SA was a christian school was one of the better things, but then again I didn't really cherish my time in SA. I mean there's no point crying over spilt milk. Time can't be rewinded to make better friends, study harder or anything, and at this point its all about moving on. Everyone's growing up, shaving off their circle friends to what was and what is going to be. We're turning 18 soon. Well most of my friends have already turned. Just me left. Am I an adult yet? Kidult maybe. Everybody around me is "forcing" me to grow up. And as I test the waters of adulthood, oh does it seems deep, choppy and scary to an extent. Why as adolescents are we forced to mature in such a short age? Why are we expected to carry ourselves naturally in a way that is "fitting" of an adult. Doesn't everyone mature at a different rate? Then what about stragglers like me? Here and yet not there. 

I don't know why I cry about the littlest thing, and what more I'm not on my period. Sigh this really breaks the "eloquent" writing I try to pen down in this space. Either way, maybe it's because it matters a lot to me? I really don't know. 

Incoherence. 

The End

So the end is in 2-3 days time. Happy? Yes. At this point of time, the end doesn't really seem like how I wanted it to be. No, I'm not really satisfied with how i did my papers, how I studied etc. Regrets were many. But in the end, i only can rely on God. Lord, you know my wishes to get As for most of my papers, and you know how much I worked and the times when I slacked, but I just lift everything to you and place it in your hands. I've done my best to a certain extent and Lord i pray that you will bless me and give me a miracle.

Do not worry, for if God is for you who can be against you?

Almost there

14 more days till the end. Indifferent? Yes. Day by day, I inch closer to being 18, to being an adult. Part of me dies inside as I think about it. The responsibilities, or should I say the burdens. The need to act okay, the need to be okay. There’s no more of being immature in thinking, nor in actions, as everything now has a consequence. A consequence heavier than an hour of detention, a consequence that will be recorded and not thrown away. Then again, why should we measure our maturity into adulthood solely based on age? Society says so, perhaps.  The fact that I am inadequately (in a sever sense) an adult scares me, to the point that I feel a sense of immense hopelessness at my being after 18 years of earthly living. What am I? I’m not a filial & loving daughter, not a kind & giving sister, not an accomplished student, nor am I the nicest friend to have. What can I proudly say I have achieved or become after these 18 years? Nothing.

Shards against shards, rubbing…cutting.