Over.

Dear Thomas,

I can face the lies no longer. I have never loved you, I have only desired your love. I am addicted to the pain men shove into my heart. You are part of that cycle. Raliegh is part of that cycle. Patrick is a part, Lee was a part, Jeff was a part, Jason, Jaben, and over and over and over. At least with pain, I can try to contract some feeling from you ... pity, remorse, your awareness that I am worth loving. With pain, I can play on your sympathy. My life is sick, like so many other lives are sick. 

And it makes me sick to be with you. To be with Raliegh. 

I want adventure. You are safe. 

I want danger, excitement, ecstasy.

You can give me none of these.

Oh, how you make me angry! Your oblivious-ness shatters my whole body into fragments of disallusioned fear. That fear causes me to be sick, to want to quit, and sometimes to die. When you don't look at me, it kills me slowly inside. And I can't take it anymore. No more with the pain. No more with the false efforts of trust, of you being kind, then forgetting, of you being beautiful, and then making me feel ugly. You can't be attracted to me, regardless of how beautiful or perfectly feminine or wonderfully fit I am for you. 

And honestly, I care not. You are behind me. You, you, you and the rest of them. You are all mice, though created by a God who desires you to be men. I pray he does this transformation in you. Not for me (because I do not want you), but for the rest of humanity. This obsession with masculine/feminine rips my mind, my brain to fragments of a once-true ideal. My ideals are falling apart. And it's because of the mice that creep around my feet, my head, and my heart.

I hate that you were one of the mice. 

But you are behind me. I cannot be around you. I will not be around you. Go away and stay.

Truly and Forever,

A.

The Waiting Fulfilled.

I texted Patrick today, sitting in the library, drinking my coffee, working my brain to focus on my test tomorrow. I asked him for advice on studying for Christian Doctrines.

So, he called. It was great! He tried really hard not to talk about himself. He's grown up quite a bit. Still has a way to go, but he's growing up and I'm proud of him.

He gave me a lot of practical advice, updated me on his search for a job and his desire to do God's will. He asked about me like usual. He genuinely cares.

At the end, I said, "HEY...hey, I'm glad we're friends again. It's good to talk to you." He said, "Yeah, I mean, you were, uh are, a really good friend. And we invested a lot of time in each other. It would be bad to let that go to waste." Then he sort of apologized. "I understand why it was hard for you and why you needed time." He got that choke in his voice that he gets when he's being most serious -- when he feels most vulnerable, most down-to-earth and honest. He continued, "If you need any more help or have any more question...about the test, you know, call me back. No matter how late, whatever time. If you need anything, call." I said for him to call whenever, and if anything changed with his job stuff, and if there was anything for which he needed prayer. He said good luck on the test, I said good luck on work. 

That was all.

It felt so, so, so very good to have him bring up the past like that -- to acknowledge it for the pain that it caused me. He sounded so relieved and so at ease, at home, to have our friendship back to the way it was closer to the beginning. I could tell that he had been hurting for having hurt me. I know that he thinks about me so, so, so very often. I know that I am an important part of his life. I know a lot more now. In an odd way.

I know that I am a very unique and beautiful and important young lady. Many men find me fascinating and exciting and fun and genuine. I am gorgeous and separate from other women in many ways. Patrick Lynn Fitzgerald saw that in me, sees that in me. He's my brother in Jesus, loved by the same God. And he messes up -- just like Raliegh, like Thomas, like Tommy, like K-Pat, like everyone. 

But all these friends, these boys, these men have loved me. 

If selfishly at times, still they have loved me, at some point, absolutely purely.

I'm glad I waited. I'm glad I endured. There's nothing more beautiful to me in this very breath that I am breathing as I type out this episode of this particular waiting for closure fulfilled -- there nothing more beautiful right now than knowing that I am important enough to someone that he would lay down his pride for me, lay down everything around him, to show me in even a small way, that he had wronged me. And that he was sorry.

I'm glad he's back. I'm glad we're friends. I'm glad my best friend is in my life again. The kind of friend that I don't need to talk to, but enjoy his conversation, his laughter, and his love.

It hurts.

Dear Jesus,

It burns a lot. I feel used and sad and hurt and alone. I run from you when I feel like I'm obsessing over things not from you. I feel like it's who I am, but maybe that's the problem. Fear is not from you because you are Perfect Love. Perfect loves dispels all fear. Thomas said so many things. He said he would fight for me. He asked me if he could keep me. He told me he wouldn't leave me. I don't understand. 

Are my nightmares a reflection of the truth? I want to sleep in peace! I want to truly be able to rest. My insecurities, my fears, my failures, and my inadequate loves attack me in my sleep, in my most vulnerable state. And I've asked for help before, then pushed you away. 

I don't know what more to do. When I love, I get hurt. I get raped. I get used. I get depressed. Jesus, I'm sorry if I lay my life down at the foot of the cross then pick it up again. I don't mean to pick it back up. What sick person would want all the pain you've allowed me to lay at your feet? Make me whole. A whole person follows you no matter the pain and the hurt and the fear that confronts her. Make me whole, Jesus, like the woman at the well and the woman with her jar of perfume. 

-Ashley Ruth

Don't Know.

I always run away,
expecting some one to chase me.
No one has come after me.
No one but Jesus.
He always pursues.
Don't know why I expect you to come, too.

As a child, I would run away from John Mark and Dustin when I was mad at them for choosing "hide-and-go-seek" over "castle" or "barbies" or "house" or whatever girlie game I wanted to play. Perhaps I was selfish even as a first grader.

If I run, I expect you to chase me. But you don't. I have to be in the lowest depths of depression for you to come running up the stairs. You're too busy. I'm too needy. So what do I do?

I always want to die,
I try so hard to bury my tears,
I try so hard to bury my "I"s.
No one buries them for me.
I want to bury myself.
My wrists burn inside.

I feel so lost.
I cannot breathe.
The tears fall down.
I'm tired of me.
I'm tired of needing you.
But I cannot stop needing love.
I need affection.
I need.
I need.

Or do I want?
I crave, perhaps.
I think I need.
That's what God created in me.
A need to be loved.
But I'm sucking it from you,
taking your oxygen,
taking your passion,
demanding you attention.

I hate myself for loving you.
I hate myselffor hurting you.
It's not something
I ever wanted to do.
I hate myself.
Can't figure out why
the voices in my head
ring loud the symphony,
"Die".

If I threaten,will you come?
If I promise,will you come?
How sick am I
to push that on you?
Hate me now,
hate me true.
All I really want is nothing
No bread for me,
water either.

There are no words,
no pattern before me.
Poetry sucks,
I can't write feel
breathe dream hurt
enough.
Can't burn enough.

My wrists
they sting
cannot move
thoughts collide
onto racing trains.
down the tracks
of my endless,
self-pitying
brain.

Please don't hate me.
Please don't leave me.
These words I say
they have no meaning.
Nothing I say,
Nothing I do,
could ever be true enough
to impress any of you.

Honesty? Have I that?
The broken me is who you like.
I don't like that girl.
She isn't me.
I don't want to feel
the agony inside her frame.
She isn't me.
She couldn't be.
How could she be?

Nobody wants me.
*now playing the pathos*
Nobody cares.
*the viola begins*
Nobody sees me eyes.
They're buried deep inside.
Nobody looks.
Nobody sees.
Nobody chases after me.

Blazing, burning, scorching
my soul in crescendoed curses,
the soul in my head
that Nobody knows.
Oh, Nobody, do not forget me.
Oh, Nobody, fly down to save me.
Be my Somebody, Somebody,
Somebody to chase me,

Somebody to love
the best side of me.

Before I turn out
like the dear deceased friend
who haunts my waking dreams.

You Forgot.

Forget me not.
Even though you will.
You have not fought.
Yet you say you fight still.

Though I'm here
Please Forget me not.
My face drowns in a dozen tears.
Tie my heart up in a knot.

My heart is in a knot.
And I know you won't
Forget me not.
You sail your own boat today.

I cannot please.
My face becomes a thousand tears.
You forget me, forget me, and all I plead is,
"Forget me not."

Dangerously falling

Dangerously falling
plunging, he failed me.
The idiot, the predator,
He raped and shattered my whole −

Dangerously falling
Reaching, you grasped me.
The liberator, the Man,
You stretched and freed my crimson −

Dangerously falling
Dreaming, I’m trusting.
The virtuous, the true,
Dangerously I’m falling in love

With you.

Wants

Important to me
are items so few
a value unearnable
but so very true.
True.
Truth.
The Truth of Love
in all her glorious scenes.
The Truth of Affection
with freedom as she wings.
No thinking,
no striving.
Only trying,
knowing we'll prevail.

I want you to hold me.
I want you to pursue me.
I want you to tell me,
to confirm in words,
to shout through your actions,
to whisper through your touch
that you love me.
And allow that to speak Truth
into my heart.

I want to flirt, tease
and then let you catch me.
I want my mystery
to draw me to you.
I want your desires
to be my heart's goals, too.
I want to serve you,
to listen to you,
to show my love through my eyes.
A soul to a soul
With no veil to disguise.

You veil me now.
You can't see me truly.
You say that you try,
but who are you really?
Do you know that I'm fragile?
Can you say that you care?
Are you lacking maturity,
or am I too far there?
I'm wanting permanence,
I'm wanting commitment.
All I want is the fulfillment
of God's plan for the sexes.
Is that so bad?
Infuriating, I'm mad.
Can't stand the thought of losing you
Can't understand why you would want to
see me slip away,
because I'm slipping,
farther
then slipping
more.
Eat up my life.
Destroy all trust.
Be like him.
Be like him.
Be like
him.

Go ahead.
Hurt me.
I don't care what you say.
And shall I recover?
Who knows?
You don't care.
I lie to myself.
You lie to me.
My God doesn't lie.
He doesn't even hurt me.
Lie. Lie. Lie.
Cry for me, too.
Not real tears,
that wouldn't do.
Real feelings aren't true.

Want to be held.
Want to be new.
Want to be known.
Want all to be true.
True.
True.
Truth.
I want.

Desires

jesus,
he says he isn't ready for the commitment i'm pushing.
a fairy tale. an ending.
it's all i want.
all i need is you; but your desire is mine.
as a child,
i desired.
as a young lady,
i desired.
now i'm old in heart,
torn in spirit,
wounded in flesh and soul,
and all i desire still
is yours.
and all i desire still
is him.
and all i desire is still
your plan.

For my Love

Dear Jesus,
Please help me see your face. I can't be in this relationship with Thomas if you aren't there. I love you so much and I want you to always, always, always and forever be first to me. Don't let me forget you. Don't let me forsake you. Hold me tightly and never, never, never let me go. Keep me in your arms, in your grasp, in your love. I want to dwell there. Always. Forever.
Your child,
Ruth