I’ve never taken compliments well. I shrug them off with an awkwardness that comes across as crass. I’ve never been intentionally ungrateful.  In fact; I’ve always shied away from any kind of recognition or special attention because I feel like no matter what It wasn’t deserved. I could have perfected something better or I simply haven’t done enough.


I literally can work myself into the ground and still tell you pile me up some more. I know my limits and my abilities, yet I constantly test them. I wonder if sometimes I crave that edge. That feeling of needing to do more, of having my emotional and mental capabilities tried and tested.

One day I’m going to crack, I’m sure of it.

I think there’s a chemical in your brain that releases happiness, like endorphin’s or something. I don’t think I have that chemical.


Because death is just so big, and man so small. I’m afraid of whats behind. And what’s before…



I never liked rooms with white walls. Just four perfectly shaped and sectioned corners.

Tomorrow will be one of the hardest days that I have had in sometime now. It’s going to feel just like sitting in that room. With those white walls everywhere I go.

And you can’t seem to put together anything that makes any kind of coherency. And the people who don’t understand why you just don’t want to speak to anyone or go anywhere call you ‘sketch’ for ignoring them.


I guess I’ll just have to take it.

I was taught in church growing up that it’s never an alright then to question God. He is all knowing and all mighty and understands things we cant even make a question to.


And then during college I was taught never to fear Him, never to keep any emotion away from Him. If I want to yell and scream and throw a tantrum I darn well can.


I now do a bit of both.


I s’pose that’s what Religion is. I’m no credited scholar, but If anyone were to ask me I would say that everyone’s personal relationship with God is dependent on that specific person.  How you communicate and learn is completely up to you.


And if that’s the case, I don’t understand. I don’t understand why it is that the good die young? That people are calloused to death and to life? I don’t understand when God makes us he writes down in our plan that he’s going to take us before we can actually experience….


Maybe the point is I’m not supposed to.

But I guess it’s just human nature to always wonder.


So tomorrow I’m going to cry. And I’m going to yell and I’m going to throw things that are going to break and I’m going to have to replace. And I’m going to question why.

Because I am imperfectly human. And because I don’t know why these things happen. And I can never change them.

And that’s always been the hardest part.

So rest easy sweet girl. And God please lend your heart and your ear to this family.

And God… I won’t bother you with my crap. You’ve got a lot on your mind. I’m only asking this small favor.

Life is short, yes. But the main thing is that it’s unpredictable. So don’t spend all of your worry and spare your health. Make room for the people who make an effort to stay.

Faces come and go. But the ones that matter won’t always be there.

Never need an excuse to say ‘I Love You’. It’s a reason in itself.

I guess that’s the beauty of this world. We are all perfect strangers to each other and yet the biggest test of our character is someone coming up to you and telling you to love that person with everything you have. Whether you know them or not.

I guess that just gets lost and muddled along the way. We put our own wants and temporary relievers whatever they may be, above those around us. And when their gone… Then we decide to miss what we abused. And this is the great flaw of our character.

I probably sound like a self righteous prick right now… But sometimes. Creation… Worries me?


I think when I die I want to come back as a bird. Just to look down on everything and have such a bigger perspective than just one in the moment. It’s something really neat in that.

I used to think when I was a kid that every time someone died another person was born. And it used to make me so angry. What if the person who died was just this wonderful and amazing person. And the one born is like a Jefferey Dahmer?

I mean sure you have to have a balance. But that doesn’t seem quite fair…


I’ve said it time and time again… But I’m going to write one book… buy a boat and just sail away. Every ocean, every shore. Just the waves, the distance and peace.

I wonder if death feels like that? Because if Death is actually a persons paradise…

Maybe I shouldn’t be so angry?


Megs ❤



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