Word of advice: it’s very complicated to be someone’s friend if you hate their guts. I could list off five or so people who I really wouldn’t mind being shipped off to some faraway country. Problem is, they’d also find themselves on my list of closest friends. How I’ve managed to get myself into this? I guess that’s the problem with surface friendships – once they start getting deep and you see someone for who they really are, it either strengthens a relationship or adds stress to it. If friends give you bad advice, insult you repeatedly, burden you with their problems to make themselves feel better, or shout/curse at you, I think you can’t really call them friends. Or can you? Those 5 or so people are people that are very hard to love. And yet…I can still look them in the face and say, I love you. I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt to say those three words and think of all the times you wished you could pull away. I’m not saying it doesn’t hurt to never hear them say it back. But I keep at it. Problem is, it’s tearing me apart. It’s taking a lot out of me. The times I have the most fun are when I’m around people I love, but the times I feel most complete and comfortable are when I’m completely alone, when nobody’s taking chunks out of my heart just because it’s convenient or whatever.
My good buddy Caitlin said something today, and I’ve completely forgotten what it is now, but I’ve come to realize I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHO I AM. I know the teen years are all about discovering who you are, but c’mon! I must be at least five different people. Every person I’m in contact with knows a different one. The people that know my serious side (which is actually my only real side, fyi) are weirded out when I go crazy, the people that know my bitter slash romantic slash boyish side are surprised to hear me wax eloquent about Jane Eyre and kayaking. you get the idea. It’s like the wheel of fortune, where the contestants spin the wheel and get a different answer every time. And lately I’ve been feeling more serious and like…when I’m writing or staring out the window talking to God or whatever, I feel more like myself than when I’m just being silly. I don’t know, honestly. I wish I could introduce everyone to the Joanna I’d rather be. I just don’t even know if it’s the real one. Reader, you have no idea how confused I am.
God is preparing my heart. I thought the past couple of weeks were insane. God’s been saying that I have nooooo idea how crazy next year will be. He’s been telling me a lot of incredible things, making me promises I know He’ll keep, which is nice, seeing as it drowns out the sounds of the demons.
This post in itself is enough to show you just know sad and confused and excited and worried and stretched I feel. And I really can’t think of anything else to talk about. Peace.