A Prayer for My First Love

Dear Lord,

Thank you for this season of challenges, personal growth & most of all good memories.  You have poured out your blessings unto me and I am forever grateful for the home I have, the health and safety of those I love, and the beautiful relationship I had with G.

I am so beyond thankful for having him be a part of my story.  He is my first love.  We shared so many beautiful moments together, and I learned what love truly is with him.  He taught me countless numbers of things like how to cook chicken on the stove, how to fish, how to compromise, how to forgive, how to love… And he taught me how to love myself.  He made me feel so special and so incredibly beautiful all the time.

Thank you for getting us through these past couple of months.  We suffered deaths in our lives this winter that were absolutely heart breaking.  I am so blessed that I had him to console me and help me grieve the loss of my longest friend, Ginger.  And I pray that I was helpful and comforting to him as he grieved the loss of friends and his grandfather.  All I ever wanted to do was make him happy and make his life a little bit more bearable than it was before.

Father, I will miss the love we shared.  I will miss his sleep talking at night, the way he would roll over and hug me in the mornings, whispering sweet nothings into my ear while I pretended to be asleep.  I will miss his goofy faces, his laugh and jokes I never really understood.  Mostly, I will miss the way he looked at me – like I was the only person that mattered in the whole world.  I’ll miss his beautiful smile and the feel of his body against mine.

I will never stop loving him Lord, but I pray that he is able to heal the brokenness in his heart.  Allow him to succeed and I ask that he gets everything he wants out of life in You.  I pray he never forgets me… I pray he never forgets the feel of my skin, the scent of my hair, my smile or the color of my eyes… I pray he never forgets the way I looked at him, he was my world.

Let us both remember the good memories, like when we went to see Christmas lights and I met his sister and niece for the first time – oh, how I was so nervous!  May we remember bowling together, cuddling up and watching Jack Ryan or Fringe, going on our daily walks during quarantine, playing Crash Bandicoot for hours on end, paddle boarding in the summer sun, laying in bed and talking about everything and nothing all at once, doing life together as a team…

Yes, our relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was amazing.  He made me the happiest I had ever been, and the saddest.  Thank you for teaching us so much about each other, ourselves and what love is.  I pray that he and I are able to reconnect in the future and at least become friends again.

Bless us with beautiful marriages, whether that is with other people or back together.

I pray that he is able to forgive me for the cruel and harsh things I have said to him… I yelled at him and acted so mean!  All the things I hate!  May he find it in his heart to understand, to forgive, and to remember me – us – fondly.

In Your name I pray,

Amen.

Anxiety

Tossing & Turning

Waiting for Morning

Waiting for a Distraction

Any Distraction

 

My Ribs are Caving In

Butterflies Racing in My Stomach

My Heart Racing Faster

When Will This End?

 

I am Nervous

I am Afraid

I am Powerless

 

The Anxiety in My Head

Attacking My Body

No Relief

No Peace

No Serenity

 

Only Anxiety

Her Spirit

Her spirit knows there is something wrong before it is physically manifested.  She has anxious, looming thoughts and feelings about the future.  At night, her body curls up as she dreams of the depressing inevitable.  She awakes, shaking, feeling a tear slide down her cheek.  “No”, she begs.  “Please no…”

The days continue on, the same foreboding ache in her heart.  She tries to ignore it, ignore the signs.  But then. it’s too late.  It is physical, it is real, it has been verbalized into the world.  There is no going back.

Her spirit warned her, tried to protect her heart.  And yet, there was still hurt.  Instead of nightmares, her nights were filled with tears.  Crying until there was nothing left to cry about.  Food lost taste, the sun didn’t bring her joy, she stopped leaving the house.

Her spirit knew what was coming, but a warning didn’t help her broken heart.  Months would go by, full of sadness, loneliness and depressive thoughts.  But one day, her spirit reassured her, she would be whole again.  The hurt would be gone, her brokenness would be healed, and she could live & love once again.

 

If Only He Loved Me…

If he loves me, he will try.

If he loves me, he won’t yell.

If he loves me, he will communicate.

If he loves me, he will listen.

If he loves me, he won’t leave.

But –

If he does not, he will walk away.

 

If I love myself, I will not let his anger affect me.

I can not wait for change, when the waiting is what hurts.

It hurts,

aches,

stings my heart.

If only he loved me…

 

 

Lavender & Ky: A Dystopian Story

The alarm went off, stirring me from my restless sleep. I covered my ears to protect my brain from the wretched sound coming over the intercom at 5 am every morning.
And every morning, I wake up from horrendous nightmares to my life – a real nightmare. A nightmare without Ky. A nightmare where everyone and everything I care about is gone. What kind of a life is that?
I scratched another tally into the stone beside my bed, marking exactly a year since Ky has been gone. A year of monotonous days of work and cold nights filled with nightmares. Horrors of him dying, of him not loving me, of him choosing to leave me forever for selfish ambition.
A year ago, he was forced to leave me when his commander recruited him for his technical skills in machine weaponry – the Committee needed him in order to secure a victory against other cities in the war. Still, war has not stopped.
Ignoring the ache in my heart, I forced my thin body out of bed. The weight loss ravaged my body, I couldn’t eat and enjoy food like I used to. I felt heavy, weak, light headed.
I dragged my feet to the sink, splashing my face with cold water. My body was already so cold, the water felt like air brushing across my pale skin. I looked in the mirror, staring into the eyes of a stranger. A shell of a person stared back at me. Lifeless blue eyes seemed to cry out for help, dark circles hung beneath, detracting from any beauty within the depths of those eyes. Gaunt cheeks, sallow skin and pink lips in a grim line caught my attention- who was this? Had I really changed so much in a year?
I once had the look of youth in my rosy cheeks, bright eyes full of dreams and aspirations, muscles on my bones… Now all I care about is trying to survive through the day without breaking down. Without worrying, without having my anxious thoughts attack me till I can’t move.
Where was Ky? Was he dead? Was he a POW? Did he flee for a better life of his own?
Refusing to think of an answer for any of those questions, I put on my uniform. I slipped into my polyester, white skirt. It used to hug my hips and accentuate all of my womanly curves, now it lay loose on my frail body. My thin fingers fumbled as I buttoned the Committee approved blouse for work. I wrapped my hair back into a bun, enjoying the feel of my soft hair between my fingers. Ky used to love running his hands through my “liquid gold tresses”, as he used to say.
Grudgingly, I left my dingy quarters, the smell of mildew leaving my nostrils as I entered into the hallway.
My quiet steps followed me down the dim, grey halls like whispers taunting me. My shoulders sagged as if I carried a thousand pound anvil everywhere I went. It was the weight of my heart dragging me down.
I headed towards the computer sector to organize and enter more codes for the Committee. No one spoke about the codes or what they meant, but I knew they were important – but why? Why did I need specific clearance to input codes? And why would I be permitted clearance even after everything that happened with my husband?
Women dressed just like me watched as I passed by.
“She looks ill.”
“Walking skeleton.”
“She used to be pretty.”
“Traitor”.
Their gossiping tongues didn’t bother me. Nothing seemed to provoke me anymore. Nearly everyone in the city stopped speaking to me after Ky disappeared weeks into his deployment and was deemed a traitor. The committee never released any information on the situation, but everyone accepted his new title as traitor and moved on. I hadn’t moved on. How could I? My husband disappeared without a word when I was 8 months pregnant. I want to believe the best of him, but doubts creep into my mind like spiders crawling around in my skull with everything the Committee has said. Had I really known him like I thought?
Nearing the computer lab, I turned the corner to find a guard. He stopped me. “Lavender, come with me.” His dark eyes threatened, but I wasn’t afraid.
“Is it Vivian again?” I raised my brows, irritated. She questioned me several times once Ky was never heard from.
The questions were cryptic, I didn’t understand what she wanted from me. Still don’t.
The guard didn’t answer me, grabbed my arm roughly, and led me through the dark building till we reached the medical sector. I felt my bone bruising.
Pictures of President Vivian lined the halls as we passed the computer sector, along with images of small victories in the current war. I scoffed at them. What were we fighting for anyways? Why didn’t the committee tell us anything?
Suddenly, the guard turned a sharp corner, shoved me into a room and slammed the door behind me. Rubbing my now sore arm, I froze. This was the room where they took me. Where they took my baby. A shiver ran up my spine, my jaw clenched tight.
Nothing had changed.
The room was cold and smelled of pungent cleaning supplies.
The same tattered, hardly white hospital bed sat mocking me.
The Committee stole everything from me in this room…
They took me from my chamber in the middle of the night after Ky was said to be a traitor. I was screaming as masked guards dragged me to the medical wing and strapped to the hospital bed. I fought against them so hard sharp pains protruded from my pregnant belly.
I remember doctors with face masks on, cutting into my belly, stealing my child. The slicing pain sent tension throughout my body. I dug my fingernails into the men standing over me, I drew blood and collected their flesh under my nails.
My blood spilled over onto the white sheets as I screamed for divine intercession. I was faint, but I wouldn’t stop fighting. Fighting for my baby’s life, fighting for all I had left of Ky. I squirmed and yelled while tears ran down my face like angry rivers. And then all was dark. I was in the medical wing for weeks after, close to death due to the blood loss. They tore the baby from my body, murdering an innocent life. It was a baby girl. Ky had guessed we were having a girl.
The Committee had hoped in killing our baby and broadcasting it, he would come back and they could arrest him. He never came. I was left ashamed as millions saw what happened to me.
I couldn’t eat or sleep for days on end after the loss – still can’t… I had nothing to live for after that. My baby was gone, Ky hadn’t come back and the entire city thought me an enemy because of whatever my husband did or didn’t do. But Ky would come back – wouldn’t he?
He was the reason I lived on, enduring each day without him or my child in hopes of one day seeing him again. The world I found myself in was colorless, full of cruel people and deceit. Ky was my reason, my reason to keep moving.
Was I bitter now? Definitely. Ky left me and our child to the scrutiny of the Committee. I almost died. Yet I love him still – I will always love him.
A slam sounded behind me, and I turned to greet Vivian.
“Sit down Lavender.” She crossed her arms smugly, posing before me as if she were worthy of praise. I hardly thought so.
I stared into her cold, grey eyes. Her lips formed a proud, crooked grin – I wanted to slap it off her face. Or maybe her mouth was stuck like that, afterall she had undergone several plastic surgeries in hopes she might be pretty one day. Didn’t work.
“Don’t make this hard on yourself sweetheart, sit down.” She gestured to the decaying hospital bed.
I sat down grudgingly. My body tightened.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“We need to run some tests.”
“Tests? What for?” My temper was rising.
“To see if you have memorized any government codes. This is just a safety measure we have to take.” Safety measure? I’ve entered codes for a year and this protocol is just now taking effect?
I rolled my eyes as Vivian stepped closer. She muddled through the metal trays beside me, then suddenly shoved a needle into the side of my neck. I let out a breath, fighting the urge to scream at the pain. I gripped the metal edge of the bed, my knuckles white.
“You’ll fall asleep in a bit, Doctor Pittman is going to examine you.”
A moment later, a tall, dark man entered the room. Vivian sauntered out as the doctor began to place neuro connectors to my temples.
I wanted to escape as the dizziness consuming me reminded me of that fateful night – the worst night of my life. My body went numb, I was unable to move. The feeling made me want to scream.
I started to see dark tunnels as my mind spun in endless circles. The doctor smiled at me and I could feel my eyelids fluttering to a close…
I felt like I was falling, slowly, ever so slowly… I gasped, my eyes opened. My vision was wavy as if I was underwater.
The pit of my stomach twisted into a knot. I was going to be sick.
Slowly, I sat up, holding my head between my hands as it ached with sharp, stabbing pains.
What did they do to me? And where was I?
Breathing deeply, I looked around. I wasn’t in the medical wing anymore.
My heart raced. I was in a small tent, a single candle lighting the canvas walls. I softly stood up, sure to be quiet as I searched my surroundings ignoring my body’s plea to stay in bed. I rummaged through a small bedside table, shuffling through the shelves, listening for anything. The room was poorly lit causing me to stab my hand on a sharp blade, I swore under my breath and grabbed the knife. Random books and papers laid scattered on the floor. There was nothing of importance in the tent.
I tiptoed to the tarp’s opening, realizing I was dressed in different clothes. Black pants and a cotton tee shirt. The thought made me angry.
I heard nothing as I peaked my head out of the tent’s entrance. Then, my brain forced my bare foot to step onto the grass below me. The grass was damp and cold, sending shivers through my body. The tent I was in was surrounded by several others, circling a massive fire pit with log benches and various supplies. I was in some sort of campsite, but why? Who brought me here?
I moved stealthily behind the tent, holding the dagger, ready to fight if need be – not that I had the strength to win anyways. The military training I endured with Ky taught me so much on self defense, but I hardly got out of bed to go to work – I hadn’t trained for months!
I prayed I wouldn’t have to fight for my life. At least not tonight.
My stomach continued to contort into knots, forcing me to keel over from nausea. Once the feeling passed, I checked my surroundings. It seemed like I was the only soul to be heard, yet I knew I wasn’t alone in the darkness.
I made a run for it into the forest trees a small distance away. As I entered into the tree’s protection, I could hear male voices stirring behind me.
I fought the black tunnels that aimed to cloud my mind. Trees, stumps, bushes and broken branches passed by me as I ran for my life. The smell of pine and dirt filled my nostrils, filling my lungs with fresh air. Air I hadn’t been exposed to for months. My heart beat so fast, it felt like a drum was pounding in my chest. I didn’t know how much farther my legs could carry me.
I began to stumble, my legs feeling too weak to continue on. Then, a loose branch caught the bottom of my foot – I fought a scream as I face planted into the earth. I bit down hard, fighting the excruciating sensation spreading up to my ankle. The warmth of blood covered my foot like a blanket.
I clumsily heaved myself up, frantically looking for the blade that went flying from my hand. Luckily, the moon light reflected off of it, allowing me to recover the weapon quickly.
Limping, I lazily continued on as the blood from my foot fell fast. A protective canopy of trees was just ahead, making me push even harder to reach it.
Finally, I stopped, bending over catching my breath in sharp heaves. An alarming throb came from my foot as it ached with such intensity I felt faint.
A small crack sounded near me in the woods – I listened intently.
Someone else was in the trees with me. My body was shaking as unknown, soft breaths whispered between the branches.
Then it happened. Someone jumped out at me from behind a bush. They grabbed my wrist, contorting it with such aggression I dropped the blade. I shrieked at the excruciating feeling as the knife went flying into the bushes across from me.
I tumbled to the ground with my offender, grappling, throwing punches, kicking. It was so dark I couldn’t see who it was. I used my elbow to uppercut the figure’s chin. They grunted – it was a man. I leapt up while he was in pain and threw my fist up to land a blow to their nose.
“Lavender!”
I froze. I knew that voice…
“Lavender.” The familiar voice was honey to my ears.
“Ky?” I was breathless and stunned. Tears immediately welled up in my eyes – what was going on?
I lowered my fist and stood up, stumbling backwards. My head was spiraling.
He smoothly leapt up from the ground and stepped closer to me. I tried to examine him in the dark. I could make out the outline of his familiar broad shoulders, his strong long legs…
Ky took another step towards me. I was paralyzed. He slowly brought his calloused hand up to my face, caressing my cheek just like he used to do. I could barely see his vibrant, topaz eyes in the moonlight.
“I’m sorry Lavender.” His voice was tortured with agony, but I didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t know what to think.
As if reading my mind, his hand dropped to his side. I didn’t have to see him to know his brows were furrowed.
I forgot my foot’s profuse bleeding until I lost my balance to the faintness overcoming me. I saw Ky’s gaze move to my foot and the puddle of blood around me… I began to teeter on my uncertain feet when Ky picked me up. My head bobbed against his chest as he rushed me back to the campsite. I could see his lips moving, feel the rumble from his chest, and yet I couldn’t hear him. I could hardly see. Was any of this real?

 

—- Thank you to all of my readers!  This is a piece I am working on at the moment and I would love some feedback!  This is just the beginning of a larger piece, so please feel free leave me some comments (:

Maybe I am Worthy of Love

The breeze from the open car window grazed my face, blew my long hair back and seemed to clear my mind with its purity.  I closed my eyes, enjoying the softness of the air that brought freedom to my spirit.  The sun kissed my face, warming my skin and undoubtedly forcing my freckles to become darker.

And yet, my heart still ached.

Peace lasted but moments until my mind circled back to our relationship and its brutal ending.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so Momma kept dragging me out of the house after the break up, trying to cheer me up… Words can’t explain how thankful I am for her, but I wasn’t ready to cheer up.  Yes, it had already been a month after he left me, but it was normal to still be hurting- right?

Our relationship seemed so perfect to me, so completely full of joy and adventure!  But looking back it wasn’t as dreamy as I had imagined…  We honestly didn’t have a single thing in common.  Our conversations would lull to silence after having listened to him talk about cars for hours upon hours.  I didn’t know anything about cars!  Hell, I drove a ‘99 4 Runner and the check engine light was always on – but it worked, didn’t it?  What more was to be said?

We never talked about anything real, like our biggest fears and dreams.  We didn’t talk about God or the meaning of life or how the heck the earth came into creation.  We never did anything but makeout and drive around town.  How pathetic.

One day, he told me he wanted to marry me, that I was the girl of his dreams after just two months of dating!  Crazy, huh?

I thought he was it!  That I had met my person, but I was so wrong.  So naive, irrational and unrealistic! I thought we were in love, my eyes were blinded to the obvious – we were oh so wrong for eachother in almost every single way.

And yet, I was still hurting.

Was I heartbroken over Tristan or heart broken for myself?  Heart broken that my idea of a perfect relationship might not exist?  Heartbroken that I may endure hundreds of  nasty breakups until I find the one?  But who even knows if the man I’ve been looking to spend the rest of my days with is even out in the world!  What if I never find a man who wants to live life with me?  What if I am unlovable, undesired, unworthy?

I can’t go there.  That thought is completely unbearable.

“Abs?”  Momma’s voice freed me from my tiring thoughts.

“Hun, you have got to stop crying over him.  He isn’t worth all these tears.”  She gave me a worried look from behind the wheel.  Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white.

I touched my cheek, feeling the tears that fell from my eyes.  I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

“I know Momma, I’m sorry.”  I wiped the tears I had let fall one too many times. The car slowed as Momma took the exit onto Briargate boulevard.  I watched the sun waning in the sky, creeping lower in the sky to inevitably hide behind the mountains… But I didn’t want the sun to go down.  Nighttime always brought me more pain, more fear, more anxiety, more haunting dreams and thoughts…

“Where to first Abby?  Francesca’s or Sephora?”

Both good options,  “Let’s do Francesca’s first, that way I can find a matching lipstick at Sephora after if I buy a new outfit.”  I gave Momma a pathetic smile that she accepted warmly.

Therapy shopping.  Story of my life.  Whenever I am  too depressed to leave the house, my friends and family lure me out through the temptation of shopping.  I have no idea why, but spending money has always made me feel better.  Until the bills come in of course…

Buying a new dress, new makeup, a pair of earrings, new shoes – literally anything makes me feel better.  If I look good, I feel good.  And maybe my looks will help me find a new man someday who truly loves me.  Who is actually good for me.  If I am pretty enough, maybe, just maybe, I will be worthy of love.

 

Reality

Reality sucks,

I hate it…

But I know it is coming for me.

I am perfectly comfortable

Living in the romanticism in my mind,

The dreams of my heart

And hopes for the future.

But now,

Everything feels like it’s crumbling –

Down, down, down…

Into the depths of despair.

I am scared.

 

I am scared of the realities of heartache.

I am scared of what is to come.

I am scared of starting over.

I am scared to forget…

But even more so to remember.

To remember the feel of his lips,

Of his hands

Gently searching my body

 

I am scared of pain.

The stabbing,

Burning,

Aching agony of the heart,

When it breaks

Reality will come for me,

It will come for my heart.

I am not ready for reality –

 

 

1 Corinthians 13

Our love is patient,

Our love is kind.

It does not envy,

It does not boast.

Our love does not dishonor,

And it is not self seeking.

Our love keeps no records of wrong,

But forgives graciously.

Our love always protects,

Always trusts,

Always hopes,

Always perseveres.

This is the love we share.

A beautiful love that comforts,

Heals,

And succeeds when we work hard

To keep the love alive.

May God bless us

Every step of the way,

And continue to lead your heart

To mine.

Amen.

 

 

Come Back to Me…

My love, I know I’ve made mistakes,

I am flawed and I say stupid things and I let my emotions get the best of me…

But please,

Forgive me,

Come back to me.

Yes, this argument I have created,

This storm of whirling emotions and doubt,

Has hurt,

It has hurt both you and I.

I’m sorry.

But do not forget the love we share,

The incredible, joyous memories we have made together!

The nights of cuddling on the couch,

Watching hours upon hours of Netflix.

The dinners we have shared,

And the burnt food I cook that you graciously eat.

When I am near to you,

I feel safe.

I feel loved.

I feel happy.

Our adventures make me happy.

When I think of you, my love,

I smile, because I know you are the one.

I am sorry I have made a mess of things,

I just hope and pray that you will open your heart to me again.

That you won’t forget the beautiful relationship we have,

The memories,

The hopes for the future.

Please, don’t forget.

Come back to me…

No One

The boys seemed to be kicking a large Bible.  I wanted to join them and play, but momma squeezed my hand and said I couldn’t – she was probably right.  After we started wearing the star of David, people didn’t seem to like us very much.  My friends didn’t want to play with me any more, they called me a rat.  I don’t know why because I look nothing like a rat!  I kind of have a big nose, but dad always tells me boys with bigger noses are the more manly ones.  I must be really manly.

I tripped over a book and momma snapped at me, “Be careful!”.

“Sorry momma!”

She has been so angry lately, I think she doesn’t like our new jobs.  Some men with really nice uniforms asked us to move into a small place that we share with two other families, and now momma and I go to work together everyday in new uniforms.  Work is so hard, and the bosses are always screaming at us.  Sometimes I cry from all the yelling, it makes me feel scared.  I keep working with my head down so momma never sees.

Every day, we walk through town together to get to work. There have been so many books on the streets lately!  I asked momma if I could keep one but apparently those books are no good and that’s why they are being thrown out.  It makes me glad I don’t own any books.

I saw a man holding a rock, he was snarling like a dog!  And he was running towards us!

“Jüdischer Abschaum!”

Momma fell to the ground.

“Momma!”

I bent over to help her up, I tried to lift her body and be strong, but I couldn’t.  She stayed on the ground holding her head, she was lying on her side like my baby sister does.

I looked for the man that threw a rock at her while yelling “Jewish Scum” – why would he do that?  And where did he go?

Momma’s head was bleeding badly.  She touched her head, looked at her fingers covered in blood and then her eyes rolled to the back of her head.  I got scared, she wasn’t moving!

My eyes filled with tears.  I could not cry when momma needed me most!

“Help!  Someone please help!  My momma is hurt!  Her head – it’s, it’s bleeding!”

No one came…

 

 

 

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