There is a vice holding me back: self-loathing. I still have the things I've been told from my childhood engraved in my brain. It's hard loving myself, especially with my sexuality. At times, I wonder if it's even worth it being a Christian if im going to be like this. A lesbian

Do you hate me? Do you hate me God? I feel like I failed you. Do you love me? Sometimes I worry so much about whether or not God loves me that I cry over it. I repeat these things in my mind like a mantra. A couple of days ago I was crying while in bed, muttering these same things under my breath until it became incoherent.

Once I calmed down from my breakdown I had a random thought of sorts. I remembered the crucifixion of Christ, The Passion. How he suffered when he was abandoned by the apostles, faced ridicule, was whipped, mocked, and the last hours he spent on the cross. He suffered mentally, physically, and spiritually in ways that one can't imagine. That's when I realized that he suffered all these things out of love for humanity. His wounds, his sacrifice, embody God's ultimate act of love by reconciling humanity with himself, conquering sin and death, giving meaning to our suffering, and lastly, the gift of eternal life, which is received through faith.

I felt an overwhelming peace despite being so confused about why I randomly thought about the crucifixion. If God doesn't look at me with disgust, but with pure, everlasting love, Why should I loathe myself?

In the dream, I was in college. No, a prestigious university, in Austin Texas. Weird because I'm going to one that's 30 minutes away from home. Austin is HOURS away I'd feel homesick–

There was a group project for a literature class of sorts. Everyone was divided evenly into groups. There was I, a girl whom I didn't even know, and most importantly, Jackie.

The three of us sat together quietly until the other girl got up to get the supplies we needed for our project: three sheets of red paper, a pair of scissors, and black twine. As I sat quietly, I looked at Jackie and mustered up the courage to speak to her.

"Why did you do that to me, Jackie?" I said, I could hear the desperation in my voice as I awaited her answer, instead she got up, looked at me, and said, "what?"

"Why did you have to hurt me, Jackie, do you even know the gravity of your actions?"

Once again, she looked at me and gave me a rather mocking reply

"What?"

"Why? Why did you hurt me? I almost committed suicide because of what you did to me and YOU know that"

"What"

I felt myself becoming irritated at her responses, I got up from my seat, glared at her, and got more aggressive with the way I spoke.

"If anything ever happens to me, there will be blood on your hands! I just want an apology, that's all im asking for"

She avoided eye contact, and once again replied the same way as she had previously done.

I can't recall what else I was saying in the dream, but the more I spoke, the more she would avoid me and repeat the same thing.

"what"

"What, what, what, what"

When I woke up, I felt sad, knowing that I'd probably never get a sincere apology for everything that's been done to me.

Can’t you believe it guys!? Spring break! Just a week away! Woohoo! I’m so happy about this information!

I have been writing more outside of here. I have this small pink notebook I bought from the dollar store to keep things noted, like what I have to do today or any events that might come up later. For me, having those types of things on a phone or computer is less effective. When I do note an important thing on my phone I ignore it and go back to watching YouTube or scrolling through Pinterest.

Also, Today, I woke up to silence my alarm until I was hit by a cold wind and realized that my whole room was cold. This was a stark contrast to my warm blankets. It was 30 degrees outside, and the cold was seeping into my room. I didn't even want to get up, but I wrapped myself in a blanket and went to the kitchen to make myself some coffee to start the day.

Already back and I dont even want to be here, it's so crowded more than ever but luckily I went to the library to check in some books, so by the time I was done the hallways were relatively empty. I was fooling around with my best friend and even chased her around with a paper bag to hit her with it until one of the superintendents screamed that there was a minute left for class. The way I started running to class and had to slow down a bit because I was wearing boots was embarrassing. I did get to class on time tho, but the superintendent laughed as she noticed that I almost tripped.

An hour into class, my legs are feeling weak. I'm still getting used to the boots I'm wearing, so I’ll probably have to tolerate the burning sensation in my calves.

I got to school an hour earlier so I could get my artwork ready for when we went up to the bus. We had to wait for 8 other people to come before we went to struck so I wandered through the empty halls of my high school. Needless to say it was a bit weird seeing it empty and not lt as crowded as it is during the week.

2 hours later or so everyone was ready, so we got on the bus and went to Starbucks. To me going to Starbucks was the equivalent of an Amish person finding out video games were a thing, I was astonished! There were so many options that I was easily overwhelmed. Luckily I had a classmate of mine (let's call her pretzel) help order it for me. She ended up ordering something similar so we were twinning.

Then we went to Chick-fil-A, 19 minutes in we all ordered our food and got back in the bus. 19 minutes later we reacher our destination to where the competition was being held. It was a high-school, but not like the one I went to. It was the equivalent of the ones you see in movies, very large! We stayed inside the very large auditorium until we had our interviews. Mine was supposed to be at 1:30. I ended up having it at 3.

Well, there were about a thousand other people from several schools here and the lines for the interviews were very long. I was standing in line for about an hour. When it was time for mine, I was very nervous.

The moment I sat down my interviewer mentioned that my medal looked like glass. I asked why but he seemed to avoid the question and mentioned that if I liked painting. I told the interviewer that I didn't, but that I wanted to challenge myself by using a medium that I struggled with. He then went on a rant about how I shouldn't follow my reference because apparently it'll "throw me off a cliff." He then mentioned that I should've done another medium instead, and that painting wasn't my best spot. Also talked about how I haven't unlocked my full potential, well I'm sorry that I'm still in school and have other stuff to focus on!

He then asked me what the meaning was, I answered by telling him how this was influenced by my faith. Then I saw his face change.

"Well, I'm cooked" I told myself once I noticed the shift in his demeanor.

That's when I was cut off and told that he appreciated the work. Before he wrote something down and told me that I was free to go... I haven't even had time to explain the meaning for my painting! I was upset about it and felt like all the time, effort, and tears I put onto my work was for nothing! Everyone in my group told me that the interview probably wouldn't affect my chanced of getting to area.

So we waited for my painting to show up in the display area, which was in the gym of this large school. Despite this it never showed up, near the end my painting didn't end up advancing to area. Everyone else was surprised about how I didn't advance, I was just there upset about my interview.