the P.Pole

Feelings are stupid. They don’t always make sense, and they sometimes aren’t even traceable. Like all these in this area right now. *points to chest*
I guess I had somewhat distorted ideas about our progress but I don’t think you can blame me. Call it a lack of coordination between your actions and actual state, call it miscommunication, but I was led to believe in something more. Silly me, Trix are for kids.
Not that I hold it against you, you’ve always been indecisive like that. It’s a quirk. But the thing I do have a problem with is me, since I have no idea how to feel – no, how to be. There’re my natural urges that whisper to throw a hissy fit of frustration or to hide away and brood like the vermin that I am. Then there’s what the comparatively mature part of me says: to talk it out with either you or anyone unfortunate enough to ask “What’s wrong?”. The problem with that is that I’d rather not open to anyone… not just anyone, if you know what I mean.
And then there’s what God is saying about this; I do believe He’s saying that I need Him (of course), but at the same time, you as well, to help me flesh out my own being and grow up. That’s what I got from 30 minutes of prayer so I’m hoping it’s legit and not just more whisperings from the Other One. Whether He’s got more planned, is up for grabs. I surely hope so. In the words of Ivanka, “Yeah I want her to be the one.” But it’s for Him to say, and no one else. I should just wait for the green light, but we all know how hard that is. We should talk.