Journal EntriesMature


In the past, I'd always prided myself on being an independent sort of girl. But now, all that vanished. Somehow, I'd come to depend on Devyn. And now that he was gone...what was I to do?

Wallowing in self-pity had been something I'd once looked down upon, but now, I found myself doing so. After all, didn't I have every right to throw a self-pity-party? Didn't I have every right to feel sorry for myself? After all I'd gone through, I was entitled to moping around, wasn't I?

Reaching under the bed - and crying heavily while doing so - I rummaged around before finding what I was looking for.

A journal.

When I was younger, I had journaled all my thoughts and feelings into a thick blue notebook. Thumbing through the notebook, I glanced at all the entries I'd written. Some were happy.

Some weren't.

I feel like I'm fading away from life. It's like no matter what I do, I can't get myself to enjoy the things I used to enjoy. I used to dance like my life depended on it! Now, dance has become just another ritual I go through in order to survive. When did I lose my lust for life?

Heart pained at the sight of so much hurt penned onto one page, I turned to the next journal entry.

I have scars all over my back. Again. My cruel step-dad beat me with a belt. Again. When will You take me away from this, God?

I remembered all the feelings that had coursed through my heart while writing that particular journal entry, but the depth of the pain I felt wasn't enough to stop me from reading further.

I've decided that for every negative thought I think, I'll try to replace it with something more optimistic. I'm not going to turn into one of those Pollyanna types, where I lose touch with reality, but I do want to stop feeling sorry for myself and start focusing more on what I can do to trust in You, God.

Immediately, I felt annoyance rush over me. "Oh, yeah, Nadia-of-the-past? So how am I supposed to turn this situation into something good?" I muttered.

Maybe it's not about making everything seem like an ideal situation. Maybe it's about telling myself the truth when I feel like there's no use in life anymore.

"Okay, God," I grumbled. "How am I supposed to be optimistic about Devyn?"

Devyn. Even his name stirred unrest within me.

"Maybe I should've given him more time to explain himself," I whispered, more to myself than to God. Looking up at the ceiling, I shrugged and let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, God. How am I supposed to handle this situation with my boyfriend?"

The End

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