Days I Haven't Died

Thank you, God, Abba, Father of Jesus Christ, that it has not yet snowed this December. I've been off of everything for quite some time now, and aside from feeling entirely foggy at times, I'm doing alright. I'm staying with some friends from the The Church Gang, not drinking, not smoking (besides cigarettes) and working a couple of jobs. I don't have any free-time, really, but I'm thankful for that, too, because what good have I ever accomplished with my free-time? Nothing. That's what. Besides going to Bible Study and Church. Church itself has been neglected in the past few weeks, but that's alright with me (well, sort of) because I was pissed off by the whole girl-trying-to-hold-my-hand and then me being almost scolded for it. I'm super thankful to be staying at what The Church Gang boys dubbed 'the 2-3-0' because my only other option is the homeless shelter down town and using the bus. As appealing as that sounds (not) I was happy where...

Formerly named, "No, no, no, I hate poor people." Earlier Nope. Not convinced. Convinced everyone can be saved if they want to be? Yeah. Convinced that not heeding advise is foolish? Yeah. Convinced that the way desired by man leads to death? Yeah. Convinced I should go to rehab? Nope. Not convinced. Especially because it isn't rehab. It's a fucking homeless shelter. Also, convinced that to mock the poor is to insult their Maker? Yeah. I'm sinful. I'm wicked. I'm not going to go be around a bunch of homeless dudes in a shelter and have an ass-load of free time on my hands to do absolutely nothing with. Literally, as soon as I found out how much free time I would have, and that it wasn't actually a rehab I was dead set on not going. Fuck that. I might hate everyone around me, rejoice in the idea of an actual rehabilitation center but the fucking homeless?  Nope. Last night in Church the sermon was about praying to God out loud and being ...

Proverbs 3: 3-7  Let not steadfast love and faithfulness forsake you; bind them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good success in the sight of God and man. Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Be not wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord, and turn away from evil. I feel awful. Why am I all mixed up in this mess anyways? I didn't want to die. Why did I feel like death was so constantly inevitably close? I wanted to feel that warm everything-is-alright feeling, that everyone-is-here feeling. I didn't know if I'd ever really feel it. It was like a cup of coffee in the morning but better, and I felt so uncertain of things. I knew I kept sabotaging myself and I wanted so badly to stop. How does something fix itself? My friends were suggesting rehab. Amy Winehouse's song "Rehab" played in my head in the most distasteful ...

You crazy bitch. I, indeed, was a crazy bitch.  If you were to translate the Spanish word para into English, and the Idiot-capitalism word loko into as loca  Spanish, you would find that the beverage was literally labelled "For crazy women". This seemed to be quite true, as the beverage contained twenty-four ounces- trust me, I did the math here,  - of the cheapest alcohol available. Arithmetic aside, you essentially paid for three dollars for two and eighty-eight hundredths of the absolutely most disgusting alcohol one could ever consume. I made a mistake last night in Bible Study, sharing that I'd learned how to say, "Yo quieres la ellsas lavando mi pene con sus bocas." Those in the light of Christ, don't look. Unless you are a King, then, feel free and find humor, however, do not deem yourself a King, unless other's have done you so. Not funny in the light of Christ. Not funny. There had been an entire lexicon of terms I'd learned, ...

"The dose maketh the poison," - Paracelsus  Twenty?  Maybe seventeen?  Maybe artistic license because I’m an attention whore? Three to start the day.  Three to get through the rest of it. I fought with the idea of drinking after work all day.  A quick visit to my instagram photos revealing pictures of Amelia and I, joyful and playing, promptly made my decision for me. “Drinking it is,” I said aloud. Maybe it, no, it definitely was, counterintuitive,  Still, my decision was made. A couple kilometers later I was sitting at the bar having my oh so relished bloody mary. Couldn’t forget my Hennessy. Oh, how I loved my Hennessy.  Double shot. Praise God, right? Nope. I didn’t think I was drunk enough to consider it a sin. Besides, I hated beaten off, so I had done pretty well in the last 24 hours, right? Wrong. I was still justifying, therefore judging, my own actions. Being my own God. Before going to Bible Study. Did I mention I cr...

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"Hey there, Trouble," it was the best way to greet her. She was your typical non-Christian fourteen year old girl. Not a virgin. Sold her Xanax for side money. No cares about anything; not lucky enough to be rich but wealthy enough to not give a fuck. She'd said she sold pharms, so I asked which. I loved bragging about how much I got. Of course she asked if I'd supply so she could sell more. "Not a fucking chance," I laughed at the girl. The drug was a fucking death wish. The idea of fourteen year olds accessing a benzo harder than roofies was ridiculous. I'd told Stefany about my mistake. Honestly, it was the hardest thing I'd done all day. I hated it. She seemed like she was warming up to me again, and I had to cut her with the cold truth: I was still just as bad if not worse than I'd always been. Either fucking way, I felt like trash. It bothered me, but life proceeded to waggle it's tremendous cock in my face. Lime Lounge w...

Zero. Houston, we have liftoff. You haven't done this before. Ask, using my name, and you will receive, and you will have abundant joy. John 16:24 NLT Gabe had been familiar with my behavior when I would depersonalize, although he didn't call it that. To him, I had just learned to not take anything seriously- to a fault. Right now, I was right fucking there.  Last night I'd thought that God had turned up the volume on the difficulty. Today, I'd realized he was only beginning to turn up the volume. It was like he was setting up that fucking noise from the THX ad you'd see at the beginning of movies.  Since I couldn't picture God, I pictured Frat-boy Jesus doing it.  Jesus seemed like a pretty loving guy. The Church Gang had said that it was ' Cool to be rude by God ' but they'd said I'd probably better not word it that way. If it was cool though, I imagined Jesus smiling as he blew out my eardrums with this noise.  You kno...