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Tuesday, January 13, 2004::

Childish Games and Teenage Faces With Nothing Being What It Really Is

I overcame an extrodenary fear today, though it is certainly not gone and certainly isn't quite as awesome as it really is.
I'm somewhat proud of myself, though still faultering, I pray to God everyday to give me the power to overcome it.

Apearently people at school are having trouble over this Belle dance thing. Belle dance, eh? Never been. Wouldn't have the guts to ask anyone, though people are trying to rid me of this horrfying fear of mine.

Is it selfish to be afraid? Do I really want to go?

When you look at the clock ticks twelve you know you need to wake at dawn but you can't sleep too much to face when the day has now begun.

I need MSN buddies TheRandomPenguin@hotmail.com Well, even though I have 84 people on my list and 16 people online right now. Heh.

Another Casualty of Society

I think I've been thinking too much again, about how other people see me and what this does for me. Frankly I shouldn't care, as long as I am Christian. But when you jump into other people's eyes and want to cry and you know you need confindence because that's the only way people like you. Why do the popular people put themselves through crap? Why are there social classes?
Why is a man/woman judged by their clothes? Did not Christ himself say not to worry about how you look or the clothes on your back? But only that you believe and following in his footsteps? Is not any man greater than another? Does beauty matter so much in this world that we take what amtters for granted?

I am not your steriotype. I am not your slave, I am not your tool, nor am I your friend or your enemy. I am not your lover, and thus I also do not hate. And I am not your fool. These past feelings of such self worthlessness should come to and end as I cry to God, why does any man matter more than you, Lord. Why does man matter more than God to some. But God I want to follow you, if you can pull me through this mind frame I've created over my existance, troubles trauma's scarred into my mind, some that I burry so deep I often forget they exist or are real. Things I've not but whispered in my sleep and seen in my nightmares to that I wake and don't remember.

-: Amy Kelley blogged it up at 7:56 PM:-