A Curious Girl: Trials

Why do I insist on doing this to myself? *sigh*. It's petty/juvenile/etc but I'm here to complain of my woes. I've spent all night so far reading more Harry Potter fanfics. An unusual romance that actually wasn't grim. It was a bit like Jane Eyre... a little explicit towards the end, but I guess I should have expected that. It was pleasant escapism.

Elaine told me today I have been very smiley all week. But... this is not because little Helly is happy. (Sara calls me Helly, I have been spending too much time with her... :-) Just kidding Sassy) Oh dear... After reading an excellent B5 fanfic In Valen's Name (if you are a B5 fan... go read it!!) I felt moved by the words "Now you must put down your burdens so that you are free to work"... remembered 'Pour over me', can't remember who by. The last verse goes;

I come, lay my burdens down
Gladly at your feet
I'm opening up my heart
Come make this joy complete
I receive your peace

This is not going to make any sense, probably. I wrote a list of my burdens. It was shorter than I'd thought it would be (probably because I've mastered the art of conciseness), but longer than it should have been. If you read last entry, you know one of them. And... I want to give up that stuff to God. I want to move on. But not only do I have trouble deciding the best way... I'm afraid to. My screwy logic again. I'm glad I did psychology, it taught me to think more objectively.

In some ways, like my messy room and my over-weightness, and my procrastination, my burdens are a comfortable thing. They don't dare to suggest there is more to life... that if you seize the day, carpe diem, you can accomplish anything. They don't form expectations. If you've already failed the exam, what's the point of revision. Well, why have you already failed it? If this paradox is confusing it is because I am confused.

I had to rearrange the programme for our concert at the end of January. Had no idea what to put in the introduction, seeing as I'm down on all the advertisements as doing my Gold d of e, but I'm not doing it for that, in fact, the other girls have done most of it. Then we (my family) had to talk about universities... and my, so many things left undone. My gap year. Clive criticised my plan... last thing I needed to hear. He doesn't understand why I want to do it. Tears came, and Mum told me something along the lines of 'how are you going to react in the real world'. OK, thinks I, that was really calculated to make me feel better. She implied that she suspects I would probably burst into tears if anyone challenges me (about anything)later on. Maybe I would, if they were trying to mess up my plan, my dreams, but how can I expect him to understand, it's not like I've told him. She implied that I'm liable to be a failure in whatever cause I'm fighting if I cry in such situations. How can I stop myself crying? I couldn't cease my tears when happy, let alone when sad and tired and a bit stressed. My general bewailing of my despair (I'm exaggerating totally. They understandably don't like my dismissal of topics, so my concern and remorse over mucking up does tend to evoke more sympathy... and yes, it is genuine, I'm just feeling absurdly detached today) wasn't taken badly.

I want this concert to be over. I'm acting in front of people - paying people - for the first time in probably years, in our sketches and yet this little delight doesn't counteract my feelings of patheticness about the whole thing. Of course, it's not my gold d of e. I didn't really feel qualified to do anything except play a major role in writing our little sketches... now they're written mostly without my help and I don't have the nerve to suggest changing things. Stupid stupid cowardice... life's too short for shyness. My philosophy doesn't deserve me, it's much more noble than I am, but I suppose God doesn't deserve a mess like me when he's had the likes of Mother Theresa who even then would have missed the mark on her own, because she's like all of us - human and not divine. It's God's awesome grace. With bizarre optimism I can say that at least in my low moods I can see how much God's taking, how much God loves.

And you... you... you... I don't lust for you and yet I love you, you arrogant git. You dared to let me know you and yet refused to let me love you, and then act like you couldn't care less who I am, what I think. The only thing that softens me is that I suspect you hurt yourself more than you hurt me.

And so here I am... afraid to open up to real people. Afraid to go on and afraid to stay - fear was naturally one of my burdens.

The only vaguely positive thing I can think of doing is praying now.

I can't imagine what you are thinking of me. Whether in sympathy or digust. I'm not sure I care. So I'm going to pray.

This entry will probably be gone in the morning.

Later: it survived the ordeal. Seeing as it has lasted almost 24 hours, this will probably be permanent. Too tired right now to bother thinking about the pros and cons for keeping it as opposed to deleting it. Well, you never know, I might need it later on for something. Recycling's meant to be good for the environment. And, I guess I shouldn't surpress this stuff either. I've read far too much Freudian theory, I tell you.

Random word for today:

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