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it’s been a while

it’s been a while since i’ve felt at ease.

it’s been a while since i’ve felt comfortable where i am.

it’s been a while since i’ve felt confident in myself.

it’s been a while since i’ve felt important.

it’s been a while since i’ve felt like i belonged.

-spb.

essais

as i sit here at 1:40am on my last night at samford for this semester, reflecting on my first few months of college, i struggle to think of how exactly to describe the whirlwind that has been the first semester of my freshman year.

and then, suddenly, it hits me. a stupid word i learned in a stupid class that i’m forced to take because it’s a stupid graduation requirement:

essais. “to try.”

i realized that simple word summarizes the entirety of the last few months of my life; a time of great change and growth.

everything within these last few months has been focused on my efforts - focused on how i tried.

how i tried in class, how i tried to study, how i tried to make cookies, how i tried to join new organizations, how i tried to meet new people, how i tried to make friends, how i tried to gain respect from upperclassmen, how i tried to hold back tears, how i tried so hard to smile, how i tried to just be myself in the midst of change, how i tried to find myself in the midst of change, how i tried to keep my faith in the midst of change...

how i tried to just l i v e .

at first, it was tough, i’m not gonna lie to you. some days it still is. but i’ve found i’m able to do it. i’m able to live through it all. no, i don’t mean i just tried to get through it, though - i mean i’m able to really soak it all in, ya know - the things that life has offered me. i’ve been able to truly live in moments. and let me tell ya, now that i know how to live in the now; i don’t ever wanna go back.

i hope that i will never again live just to get through life. no. that’s not really living.

-spb.

i’m a hypocrite but i’m working on it

i hate makeup. i hate how disgusting it makes your face feel. i hate that ladies feel like they have to cover up the truth in their face with a bunch of nasty crap. i hate that society deems a made-up face as beautiful. i hate that it’s almost 2016 and we still can’t embrace our physical “flaws.” i hate that boys say “we don’t like when girls wear a bunch of makeup” but then torment girls who don’t, deeming them as ugly and won’t consider getting to know them. i hate that we feel like we have to put a mask on whenever we leave the house.

i hate that i wear makeup. i hate how disgusting it makes my face feel. i hate that i’m so insecure about my acne or my eyeballs that i feel like i have to cover it all up. i hate that society thinks i’m ugly without it. i hate that i’m almost 19 years old and that i still can’t embrace my flaws. i hate that he tells me, “you don’t need makeup, you look fine without it” and i can’t bring myself to believe him. i hate that i have to put on a mask any time i leave my room.

but i’m going to work on it. i’m going to try to get over my insecurities and fixation on having to be made-up whenever i leave my room. no, i’m not endorsing looking like a hobo every single day, but i’m going to try to wear makeup less and be okay with it. i’m going to try.

-spb.

#bebonafide

are you capable?

i want to be loved i want to be love i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved i want to be loved

-spb.

home is

“home is where the heart is.”

“home is wherever i’m with you.”

the lake is home to some memories that changed my life.

i laid on the back of the docked boat and let the water sway me back and forth, back and forth. soon, i found myself feeling this certain comfort; a sort of peace that filled my body and left me wondering, “how can i possibly describe this feeling?” and then it hit me.

it felt like home.

having recently moved out of the house i grew up in, moving in with my grandparents, moving into college, and moving into a new home all within two months; you could say i’ve lost the sense of what home really feels like. i forgot the difference between a house and a home.

i haven’t felt like i’ve been home in so long. and today, i finally felt it again.

i began to wonder what can be defined as “home.” but the truth is, there’s no universal definition of the word. yes, everyone knows what a house is. but home is different. home can look like a few billion things - it can be different to every individual on this planet.

it’s not always about the house you grew up in, or the town you’ve known for years. it’s not always where you kick your feet up after a long day, not always where you walk in the front door and hang your coat up. it’s not always where your parents live or where you played as a little kid.

sometimes, it’s a place that can only be reached through driving down many windy roads, around many bends, and located at the end of an overgrown trail. sometimes, it’s where you discovered the joy in swimming in the rain. or, maybe it’s a place with the most beautiful view you’ve ever seen. could it be a place where you first understood what love was, or even a place where you were forced to leap into murky waters?

sometimes, it’s a place where some of your greatest, happiest, and most painful memories rest.

sometimes, it’s where you can lay out and let the waves rock you to sleep; where you almost feel like you’re in his arms again.

sometimes, it’s an old dock on the lake.

-spb.

she’s captivating

my wiser, much-better-looking-and-way-more-charming big brother sighed. he asked, “why her, though? what is it about her that you just can’t let go of?” for a second, i blanked. i didn’t know how to answer. “i just...she...”

and then the words flooded into my mouth and came out like a river before i could even filter through what i was saying. it was word vomit, and i couldn’t control it.

“she’s not like anyone i’ve ever met before. she’s captivating - the way she speaks, the way she moves, the way she looks at something like it’s captured her entire being - and that’s something to be proud of, you know - it’s hard to get her attention. when she puts her hair behind her ear, you know she’s trying to gather her thoughts. and then, when those thoughts turn into words, it’s like...it’s like nothing else matters. her words are beautiful. the way she speaks is beautiful. she’s just so...beautiful. and i don’t just mean her appearance. everything she does is beautiful. it’s as if she was crafted by something bigger. something had to carefully sew her together, you know? she had to be intricately planned, all the way down to the plumpness of her bottom lip and those dimples that make my head spin. it’s the way her eyes light up when she sees a puppy, or the way she dances when she thinks no one is watching... but i’m always watching. it’s the way she bites her lip when she’s nervous, or how wide her smile gets when someone tells her that she looks nice today. she looks nice every day, but she’s too humble to ever realize it. it’s when she stands with one foot on the other knee when looking at a menu on the wall of a restaurant. she always struggles to keep her balance, but she continues to do it anyway. it’s her loud, goofy laugh that makes every person want to laugh right along with her. it’s when she wraps her arms around my neck and looks up at me with those big blue oceans that people call eyes and i swear, i could stand there forever. it’s the magic i feel throughout my body when she traces my forearms with her fingertips. it’s the hope that remains in her heart regardless of how many times life has let her down. it’s not just one thing about her, man... it’s everything about her.”

he took a moment to absorb my rambling about the girl who got away. finally, he spoke. “well,” he laughed a little, “looks like you’re screwed. you better get her back.”

-spb.

but there's so much beauty in a paradox.

spb.

the fall

slow and steady,

but quick and crazy

-spb.

today i realized that every person has a story. every story needs to be heard.

if you’re struggling, chances are, somebody else is struggling too.

if you’re excited about something, chances are, somebody else is excited about something too.

there is nothing more comforting than knowing you are not alone in your fight.

there is nothing more exhilarating than knowing you are not alone in your joy.

when we share experiences, we thrive.

if you’re too afraid to speak about your darkness, or too humble to speak about your light, i encourage you to remove yourself from that fear or that humility.

your story could create a bond with another human being that could be so beautiful, it’s as if it was written in the stars.

don’t keep your story to yourself. share your sadness. share your happiness.

you never know who is meant to hear your story. you never know the impact your story could have on another life.

your story has value. you were given your story for a reason - don’t let it go to waste.

-spb.

i will carry you with me. every day. whenever my heart is heavy, i'll remember you are there. whenever i feel like giving up, i will remember how you never gave up on me. i will stay strong for you. and i will miss you. every day.

letter to kibs | spb.

1.5

sometimes, i don’t know how to feel.

i still can’t believe what happened. it still doesn’t feel real.

so many people loved you. how could you not see that?

sometimes, i want to scream at you. i want to push you and yell in your face about all the pain you’ve caused.

you didn’t have to do this. you didn’t have to give up. you didn’t have to leave.

sometimes, i just want to hug you and bury my face in your chest and tell you that it’s okay.

it’s okay, it’s okay.

sometimes, i miss you so much that i swear i might go crazy.

why can’t Heaven have visiting hours?

one day, not long after the incident, I was sitting at a red light. a car that looked identical to yours drove by.

i could’ve sworn the driver was you. i could see you so perfectly, so vividly.

soon, i came to the realization that it wasn’t you; it couldn’t be you.

the realization made me sick to my stomach. i pulled off the road, and got sick on the side of the road that we’d driven down every single day.

i wanted it to be you so badly. so much that it made me sick.

sometimes, i just wish you were still here.

i can’t believe it’s been a year and a half since you left.

it’s been a year and a half, and i still can’t believe what happened. it’s been a year and a half, and it still doesn’t feel real.

it’s been a year and a half, and i still haven’t accepted this reality. i haven’t accepted that you’re gone.

i don’t think i ever will.

i miss you so much it hurts, kibs. i need my best friend.

-spb.

when life hands you lemons

you take them and make lemonade.

but not just any lemonade, the best lemonade. aka chickfila lemonade.

life has a funny way of handing us the things we want and the things we had no idea we needed.

when the Lord hands you an opportunity to make a change,

do not hesitate to make chickfila lemonade.

-spb.

there is value in all people, in life, in today...

if you feel too much | jamie tworkowski

do not be afraid

it has been said that a variation of the phrase do not be afraid can be found in the Bible 365 times; a reminder to live each day fearlessly.

fear is something i personally struggle with greatly.

it can be simple; a big test coming up, the opinions of others

it can be much more powerful;

like the death of yet another person i love.

the latter haunts me constantly, in between each breath i take.

the Lord calls us to love others and to be His flesh here on earth. how can you do this if you’re preoccupied with other things, specifically something as crippling as fear?

living in fear is not the way to live the life you’ve been blessed with. i’m no expert, obviously... but take my advice: do not let fear control your life.

you never know when you’ll breathe your last breath. you don’t want to reach the gates of Heaven, look back on your time on earth, and see all the things you could’ve done if only you lived like each opportunity would be your last one; like each day you were given was your last.

the title of my blog is just a phrase that encourages me to take advantage of each moment i’m blessed with. it is my hope that it will do the same for you.

DO NOT BE AFRAID.

-spb.

day one

i guess this is my first blog post! how exciting.

i don’t know how to work my way into this gracefully, so i’ll just start with why i’m blogging in the first place.

yes, i love to write, but that’s not the reason i’m doing this.

i know what it’s like to feel hopeless. i know what it’s like to feel broken.

it was the words of those who had experienced those things before me that comforted me the most. those words understood me. those words helped me to feel less alone in my fight against the darkness.

in the last few weeks, i’ve had countless thoughts racing through my mind; so many that it’s been difficult to sleep at night. i’ve always journaled, but for whatever reason, it just hasn’t done the trick for me. i’ve gone back and forth, trying to decide whether or not i should start blogging.

i’m currently reading “if you feel too much” by jamie tworkowski, the founder of TWLOHA, my favorite nonprofit.

just a few pages in, it became clear to me that blogging is exactly what i needed to do.

if someone’s words could inspire me so much, who says my words couldn’t do the same for someone else?

and so, here we are. here, i start a journey of hopefulness and inspiration and love through words.

-spb.

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