welcome.
Meow.
Meow. |
I'm sorry that I forgot you were a real person. Not just a painting. Church has always been weird for me. I always feel like people think I need saving, or something. During alter calls or spur of the moment baptismals, I feel like everyone looks at me and wants me to go fix my issues. I know we didn't grow up together, but I was raised in the church. Really, I was. And I like it. But please don't look at me like that. My mind thinks you're secretly satisfied when I get taken up in a worship set because maybe I'll break down and become more devout. Maybe that's not what you want. Maybe that's not what you're thinking. Maybe it's just nice to see someone sensitive to a spiritual movement. Maybe I'm just quiet. I'd love to talk to you, but the girls are all too made up for me. I don't straighten my hair and it's too long for the summer. I don't wear makeup unless the lights will drown me in white. I don't catch every service. I talk to the kids more than anyone my age. They're just lovely. They're innocent. They're slightly unkempt. They smile all the time. They sneak up behind you and poke you in the side, then run away and giggle because they want you to talk to them. I just really like seeing them smile. Nothing makes me happier. When they sing songs and tell me how they need to get clothes for kindergarten. About how their cat was sitting on their blanket or when they saw a new movie. I just want to hug them and make sure they don't get hurt. But I guess that's just the mother in me. I don't like to admit it, but it's there. I don't like admitting that I like strong people either. I want to take care of people, but I need someone to take care of me, too. You can't do it alone. I don't get much out of church services, usually. But today was solid. |
