maybe

creative juices are greatly lacking.

maybe it's the move, or maybe it's the annoying voice of the girl sitting beside me, but i can't think of what to write to save my life.

i don't have to write, i know that, but i want to write.

herein lies the problem... i don't know what to write about.

let's start with the basics...

i live in a new town where i have been going new places and meeting new people. sounds simple, but it's not. for whatever reason i have found myself not at all enjoying what has become a task... the task of meeting new people. i make myself do it though, i make myself be involved (for the most part), but i can honestly say i have not enjoyed it (for the most part).

why? i don't know. and the more i try to figure it out, the more frustrated i get.

i used to love this. not only love it, i used to be good at it. meeting new people, are you kidding me? pull out the clipboard, write my name on it and sign me up!

not this time, not this move.

i just want to find a place of my own and i want to hide. i want to hide from the people, i want to hide from the city and i want to hide from the reason that i have come here.

i want to hide from the reality that it was my choice to leave behind the place and the people that i have called home for the last three and a half years. i want to hide from my grief because every time it creeps up i am only reminded that i have brought it upon myself.

and so what now? how do i manage all of these emotions along with adjusting to a new town, a new job, a new school, and hopefully a new community? who do i tell how i feel? who do i reach out to? who can i be real with? and who will listen without expectation of someone greater?

maybe the expectation to be great is one that i have placed upon myself. maybe no one expects this of me at all. yet the truth of the matter is that there is this voice, whether it be one of truth or one of lies, that tells me i need to be great... i have to be great, and i don't know how to silence it and allow myself to just be.

so maybe i'll stop looking. maybe i'll stop looking for someone to confide in. maybe i'll stop looking for somewhere to hide. maybe i'll stop looking for the girl i used to be and instead just rest.

and maybe God will show up and find me here, resting and waiting. and maybe then i will be ready for what He has planned for me.

maybe it is all actually only when i stop, be still, and know who He is that i will ever really find myself and find where i fit in this life, regardless of where i am.

maybe, just maybe, this isn't really about me at all.