Alone

I don't like being alone. When spanking became an ineffective punishment for me when I was little, my mother simply started isolating me for long periods of time for punishment. It killed me. Whenever my sisters decided it was a great day for ignoring me and I was left to myself, it killed me. But then sometimes company doesn't do it for me either. And even sometimes company is too much. Sometimes I want it all but none of it at all. Sometimes I drive myself crazy, especially when I am alone. I don't like being alone. This is when my mind starts going full-force onto... well, everything. My relationships, my schoolwork, my laziness. Objects of focus become increasingly negative. I am not doing this right. How does that person really perceive how I treat them? I am such a jerk. I don't know how to defeat that. Should I defeat that? Oh, I should probably be concerned about where God is in my life. Is He there? God, are You there? Yeah, you are, but am I there? Probably not. I'm not sure how to fix that. Maybe I should read the Bible and pray -- the two answers to everything. Maybe I should stop thinking so much. I don't know how to do that either. I don't know. I don't know. But I want to. But I want to. I want it all. But I don't. Which really means I have no idea what I want. Which really explains a lot about me, myself, and I. I can't quite pinpoint problems. And so, I can't beautifully wrap resolutions to problems. Optimism takes a conceded effort. Hope is contrived. Love appears to be lost. Peace is in the other camp. Joy has deflated. Patience won't cut it. God, I don't know how to know that you're enough. And I'm not going to pretend like I do. I'm not going to throw vacant words of possibility in random directions in hopes that they're really coming from my core. Maybe this is depression talking. Maybe I shouldn't resign myself to this. But I really just don't know. And really. This is me.