-Insert clever title here-

Over the past few months, I've had quite a few people repeat to me the same thing, "You don't want to let love in." or "You're so scared of people loving you that when they do, you want to push yourself away from them, or stop talking to them as much." And it's the truth, which makes me want to punch myself in the face because I had to have PEOPLE tell me that, because I couldn't figure it out for myself! The truth is, I don't believe half of the people who tell me they love me, which is like that for anyone, I mean you have your few select people and there ya go, but me? Nah. I don't even have my select one. Well, I guess that's Brittany because I'd believe her if she told me it was raining llamas. But, with anyone else? I'm scared of them loving me. Even my family. Why? Maybe because I don't want people to love me? I know I'll let them down? I don't know.

But the other night, I had a really, REALLY, good time with friends. And I'm scared. I used to be open about the scars on my arms, or whatever. But, with them, I want to hide them even more. Because I'm worried. About? Hell if I know. But telling people about your past is a step into trusting them and them trusting you. It works both ways. And I am terrified to let that happen. Because I feel for the first time, I am being accepted outside of forcing myself into being accepted. Because ever since I've been going to this youth group, I have been terrified because of the amount of love that spills out of that place. Because I don't know whether to run to it or run away from it. It's like my feet are super glued to the ground in between. I've been praying and praying but it's hard to get that going when I have an on going battle in my head about where to run to. I'm always running to or from something. Always. I've tried to stop running, but then I begin running from running.

I'm sorry, this is turning out to look like the inside of my brain to me, like spaghetti. So I'll just end this.

Taylor Marie

Death.

Just recently, there was a death in the family. My grandmother passed away in her sleep at
the hospital she was staying at. She was the first family member, or friend, that I've ever
lost due to death. So not knowing how to react, I sat in my room, thinking. Not knowing
whether to cry, or laugh about the good times I had shared with her. What pains me the
most is the fact she wanted to see me, but I said no. Because I had to wait until she was
out of the hospital, because I wasn't going to be able to stand the smell or the white
walls, or the closed in echo-y rooms. Because I'm terrified of them. So I told her I'd
wait. And now she's gone, and I couldn't tell her I loved her.

I really don't understand death. I know that I sound like a child, but I really don't.
I'm guessing I don't understand it because I don't know how to react to it. She's gone.
GONE. It's hard to grasp. I've never had to think about funerals or any of that mess.
People considered me lucky, but no. I would rather have dealt with death when I was younger.
Because as bad as it sounds, at least I'd be almost used to it. I really don't know where
this is going, it just feels so good to get some thinking out of the way...

-Taylor Marie