happy. birthday.

My sophomore year of college, I was seriously fighting depression. There was no escape. My soul was trapped in the tunnel of turmoil. I heard screams all day and all night.

My heart was dead.

Now, looking back, I realized that I was in a place of not knowing who I am. But within the last year, I have re-discovered who I am.

I am a lady who is passionate of almost everything. I am an emotional being. I feel every type of emotion. It beats through my chest. It is a beautiful flaw.

My life flashed through my eyes the night I turned 24 years old. It is too late to care about the past. It is over and done with. I need to focus on what my present has for me.

I have so many amazing opportunities that are blooming like the tulips on a fresh Sunday morning. And I plan to not let anything stop me.

I promise.

The truth about Me.

My affliction gave me a pleasure unspoken of... a feeling that left me wanting more...

Why do so many women hate themselves? What a tragedy...

Sometimes, those vile nightmares still sneak into my bed, roll under my covers... in each breath, my dreams are paralyzed by the scent of hell. Point blank, I used to hate myself.

It was a wicked disease, crawling beneath my skin.

Musk of hurt, disappointment, shame and guilt transmitted from my brain into my soul. Detrimental.

I hated my dark skin. I hated my nappy hair. I hated my fragile body. I hated how I didn't accomplished anything great like my counterparts, and if I did, it was never ever good enough.

But nobody knew. Which made it worse.

Days of suckling on the Devil's venom of self-destruction were woven into my addiction.
In the past, I was a coward. Not to face the world. But to love myself.

...would you believe that I just started truly loving myself?

It's amazing how God loves us when we don't even love ourselves... Now ain't that the truth?

diary.

Sometimes I wonder where I would be if I didn't pray.

My relationship with God has grown immensely. So deep and rich... I get high off waking up with the thought of Jesus sticking to my mind.

I am a victim of a lot of things. However, I wish not to say of what... because I no longer claim those things.

It is so funny right now. Whenever I face the world, I have so much to think about. So much to want to write those thoughts out. Yet, once I sit in front of my tiny electronic notepad, I have absolutely nothing to write about. I find that odd. My thoughts run away. And I don't know why.

Perhaps, it's fear of writing down the Truth.