A Beautiful Mess

I have a fear that eventually I'll just have nothing good to say.  Maybe I don't but here I am anyway.

I don't really know what to write about since lately whatever was left of my ability to think and my emotional capacity have been stripped down to the bare minimum and it's starting to show despite my few efforts to hide it.

I keep saying I just don't care anymore.
But I don't really mean that.
What I really mean is that I do care.
I care too much.
And when you care too much,
you shove all the caring-ness into nooks and crannies so no one has to see it and so you won't have to admit that the small pieces of your heart that you shoved into a corner somewhere are starting to show.

And I guess all I really want to say (that is, if any of this makes sense at all) is that it's okay to care.

And I can just feel the hypocrite in me oozing out from those words because as I write this I realize those words are
for me.

I guess I just hate appearing weak, feeling vulnerable, or admitting that I care.

It's easier to shrug it off and say you don't care.

But in a world that is all about the external shell of "everything's alright here" I think it's important that we let ourselves be vulnerable.

It's really hard, at least it is for me.

I want nothing more than to be the girl who has it all together - no issues, no insecurities, no tears, no problem.

Problem is, I'm not that girl.

Most of the time I'm a mess of a human being and a darn good pretender.

When you're vulnerable, you're bound to get hurt.  But if you keep everything bottled up, you're bound to regret.

When you're too busy trying to keep it all together, you're really just falling apart.  I think maybe if you just let yourself be the mess you are, like you're supposed to be, God will, in His time, find a way to make you a beautiful mess.

...Love, Anna...