I know that to some, I look like I have it all together. And it's true that I know how to use a day planner, I'm on time, and my house is always cleaned up and put away. But I'm a mess. If only you could see past my planner and my organized life; look past the order, and see the chaos. See this messy heart that has desires and aches and hurts and sins and weaknesses.But I am always in dresscode.
At least don't tell me that I'm wrong when I say that I am a mess. Don't laugh at me, and say, "No, that's not true," when I let you peek into this heart of mine. You think I'm so put together because you won't let me show you otherwise. If you would stop long enough to peer inside of me and see the things that make me so imperfect, I would melt. Imperfect is relative to you. Because I'm not dancing on the street corner, you think I am perfect, but please, please, take my imperfections seriously.I am not okay
Overwhelmed and stressed
I hurt
I cry
I wonder and worry
I'm confused
Torn in two different directions
Wrestle
Collapse
Try
I soar and I break
I laugh and I weep
And God knows all about it.
