Exerpt from my first day of creative journalling homework.

I just want to cry. I want to find some friendly arms and sink into them. I'm tired of standing up, tired of being brave, I wasn't meant to be like that. Yet so often I try to be, so often I convince myself that I'm alone, that I'm the only one who will look after me. Deep down I know that's not true, yet somehow I live as though it was. And then times like now I find myself so tired, and ready to crash, and I wonder how I got htis way and why I'm so tired and where these dreams are coming from and why my body hurts and I haven't laughed in such a long time.

But if I'd only let God look after me the way He wants, the world wouldn't be quite so terrifying. And if I'd only open up to the people around me, I wouldn't feel quite so alone.

I've learned this time and again and yet I always find myself in this place. On the brink of tears, full of anger and frustration, so tired I can't even think straight. My body isn't tired, but my mind, my spirit, the exhaustion therein is enough to drive me to my bed for days.

I will find my way out of this tunnel, this botle that i sealed myself into. All the world is dark brown through the glass but I'll find a way to pop the cork and then I'll see clearly again.