Getting to the Real part of the Pretend

I wanted to preface my next three blog posts by saying don’t worry, I’m not regressing to fall's “my heart is as tiny and shriveled as a black raisin” or “there’s an eclipse in my classroom blocking out the sun.” But you know, if there were an eclipse, there must be a hot vampire around or something. Not that I think vampires are hot. I don’t. I think they’re creepy. And possessive.

I just wanted you to know that I’m going to share some deep pieces of my heart in the next three posts. I’m going to be real with you and tell you what’s up in my life. So I’m going to cut the humor and get to the soul for the rest of the week, but if you pop back in on Sunday, I promise a really good college years story.

I don’t think that what I have to share with you tomorrow will weigh you down like some previous mush of mine (I apologize), but it is my hope that my story will echo truth within you. See you here tomorrow.

Much love,
Joelle

This is a really bad first impression

I realize that this could be the very first time you've ever read this blog. Welcome! Thanks for reading. Too bad you chose to read this during the week I've lost all my marbles. Seriously, they've all rolled away into a drain grate or something where I can't reach them.

I've decided that I need to take a week long writing break at the minimum, because I'm afraid that if I don't, I'll reveal to you all my deepest, darkest secrets, and like your brain or heart needs that right now. Plus, how mortified would I be in two weeks? What I need to do is lock up all my old journals in a trunk and throw the key into the pile of leaves sitting outside, so I'm not tempted to share every revealing thought I've ever had. Because some of them are pretty pathetic.

I know my week long absence could be really heartbreaking to you and everything, on account of how you'll gain ten minutes of your life back everyday by not having to read the sap I put on here.  

I decided I needed to take a leave of absence after writing two paragraphs. One's called "Everything I Hate About Who I've Become," and the other is called "Everything I No Longer Believe." I decided to keep them hidden in my journal because, as you might imagine, neither one is filled with uplifting, beautiful, or funny things for you. And I don't want you to have to read things that bring you down. Because I care about you, I really do. Even though no one cares about me <-- whoops, see, that's why I need to take a blog break. I start writing things that are probably not true. They're all fictionalized in my head.

So instead of sharing paragraphs that make me cry, I will instead tell you this: in place of my heart, something as tiny and black and shriveled as a raisin now rests. 

The thing about having a raisin-heart is that it's full of anger and bitterness and not-funny stories, and it loves to think mean things about the person it dwells in. Raisin-hearted people often wear stonewall expressions, and it looks like they feel absolutely nothing, except maybe sadness or hate, but in truth the raisin heart feels everything, except when it is numb, which is often.

I'd pray for a miracle to happen inside of my heart, but that's on the list of Things I No Longer Believe. So maybe you could pray for a miracle instead. If you're into that sort of thing.

Hopefully I'll see you in a week or so, if I find a way to get rescued in the meantime.

Joelle

When Chandeliers Break and Heaven Falls

I kept thinking about this, about how I could forge Beautifully Broken and Crescendo together. When a chandelier meets a music note, I wondered, what happens? And what does this have to do with me? And where does God fit into this? Sadly, most people who write poetry on blogs run the risk of sounding like a sappy goon. But I figured it didn’t really matter. 

When Chandeliers Break and Heaven Falls

I’m in a room where the ceiling is lifted

It’s lifted so high it seems like heaven falls

Down around me.

I see marble pillars, gold, and velvet

The floor below is black and white.

We’re all chandeliers

Suspended in the air

Made of crystal glass

Refracting rainbow light.

I am a chandelier

Hanging above this ball room.

Below the music plays.

The notes echo

The tempo quickens

I can feel it reverberate in

My soul.

Adagio, Legato, Staccato

I listen to the measures.

I am waiting for

                                        o

                     d

                 n

              e

            c

         s

      e

    r

C

The moment that takes them all.

When the burst of music blooms

When the rumble fills the room

It seems like heaven falls.

I forget

I’m made of glass.

I love the sound of crescendo

But it does something to me

That changes me.

Fortissimo!

I shatter

I fall.

Ten-thousand sparkling bits

Lying broken on the floor

Waiting for Him.

Waiting for Him to sweep me up.