Monday, April 18, 2011

I've spent a lot of my life trying to find something I'm good at. Why couldn't I just be content with who I was during all my awkward stages?! I have no idea. I was probably much cooler than I gave myself credit for.

However, for some reason I felt the need to search for affirmation through outlets other than my bike riding skills. So I exhausted myself trying to channel Mia Hamm as I sprinted up and down the soccer field. I'd  write over the top emo poems to catch my audience's attention. I wanted to be the best in shot put, basketball, volleyball, poll vaulting, track, softball, and cheerleading. For so many reasons I wanted to prove to myself one thing, that I could do it. But instead the opposite happened. I got a black eye from softball and they ended up just making me the manager /ball retriever. In cheerleading, my bases didn't catch me and I took a pretty hard fall that scarred me for life. Practice for poll vaulting started at 6 am. So needless to say, that didn't last. Pretty much I failed miserably in all these things.
But one starry night, my right hand met a paintbrush. The instant connection they had is magical to recall upon. In the next few months they became inseperable, sitting under trees, admiring the scenery, and talking for hours.

They let their imagination sweep them away and dreamt of a land where wild animals lived and played among them.

It didn't take long for that to become a reality.

As time went on they began to kindle a deep and sincere love for eachother. It was no longer just an attraction. This was real.

A love so precious and delicate that the only way to hold, without crushing it, is to let it get swept away with wherever the wind is taking it.

Thank you Jesus for giving me a creative mind. For without it I would be miserably bored and by now, on the verge of insanity.


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