Little Drummer Boy

It seems like this is the lesson I'm learning this season. I don't have anything really special to give anyone, even my Jesus this Christmas. And it's his birth I'm celebrating.
All I have is my voice, and my talents as a songwriter and composer.
I'd give anything to give them to Him.
But I don't have the means.
I find solace in the fact that every time I raise my voice it is to him.
It's all to Him.
I'm glad he can hear it in my head.
Merry Christmas.

Cast off.

I'm embarking on the first fast of my entire life. When I was little I didn't think I could handle it. But... I think I can do this. I feel strongly enough, you know?
My first fast. Wow.
There's got to be some preparation for it? I mean, I should have been storing up fats so that my body would have something to feed off of for the next week.
Christmas, I hope we eat after sundown, if not, I won't eat anything else that day except the meal.
I'm scared. But I'm excited too.
I'm fasting for my friend Tim.
Day one starts in twelve minutes.
I should be quaking in my shoes for my life.
I barely get enough to eat as it is.
But... God's got it in his hands.

For you, Tim. For you.
Fasting. Praying all that time I would be thinking about food or I would be preparing.
I am so excited to see what God gives me this week.
:) In a way I think it's good I've gone through this too.
Actually. I know it is.
Wish me luck, and should you choose to, join me for a day.
Pray for him, and for me.

Love always
Nikole

"You should never work at a suicide hotline."

Well I hate to be so vengeful, but I proved you wrong. Twice. Twice. Someone has called me with a blade in their hands, and I've made them stop. I've made them rethink living. I'm starting to believe I threw you life preservers and I gave you organ transplants but you just let them rot or float out to sea.

But on a note that is in tune...

It feels so good to be using the past tense. It feels so good to be able to talk to you and give you hope about tomorrow. Just. Tomorrow. You can make it. Helping you heals me. You can do it. I have every confidence in you, my friend. I value your existence. I love your eyes, your freckles, your gait. I love you. Just, as a holistic little blip in the universe, it's a treasure. And I'm so glad I can say this without Chris getting mad, he knows what I really mean. I love that boy more than anything, and you are a terrific friend. I'm so glad he lets me be the me I'm meant to be.
You give me hope that tomorrow I won't slip on this precarious slope on to safety and into the recovery room and out the door of the hospital. Did you ever believe that? Your pain gives me hope. There is purpose. Purpose for the Pain by Renee Yohe. I won't buy it for you, because that might be weird but I promise to let you borrow it and if you like it, you can keep it. I'd give the shirt off my back for you. I'm glad to have friends like you around. So. Glad. That I am alive for this.

It seems like something I shouldn't look forward to, saving a life everyday. It seems like it would get tiring. And truth be told, it is, when they don't try to get better. If you have an addict that pulls out the cocaine in front of you, it's hard to feel as if you are making a difference. It's hard to feel as if the guts you are drowning yourself in will ever become the air you breathe.
But you make it worth it. You are meaningful. You are worth it.

I will always be here for you. I will never forget you.
You are part of me.
My little drummer boy.



Sorry that it doesn't quite fit.

But, oh my God, why?

This hurts so badly. It's crushing my bones. It's sitting on my veins. It's making sure that I stop beating, that I stop keeping tempo.

No matter how much I've changed, no matter how many times I reinvent myself, I never seem to get the hang of it.
I can change from an amoeba to a person, but I can't for the life of me change one thing.
I can have as much inspiration as I want.
I can know in my gut that this is what I'm going to do with my life.
But...
I have no outlet.
And I do not have the right motivation.
Maybe that's why I'm not allowed to have the outlet now.
But my God... Does it burn. These tears pour themselves onto the swollen, itching skin around my eyes, and that only makes it worse. It's like involuntary self mutilation. I feel so hollow.

I have a purpose. I have everything lying. Right. Outside. The. Window. I can see it, I can feel it's temperature through the glass, I am an inch away and I can't do a darn thing about it. I can't write. I can't compose. I am nothing. Nothing is about what it's supposed to be about. I can't right things full of hope and joy and love like I promised I would. I know, deep down that's why I don't have the stuff I need. I know it. But... I can't help but beat myself up for not having the joy I so lavishly spread upon my fellow man in life. Why can't I commit it to paper? Why I can't I reach through augmented fourths the feelings I am holding onto?

Being worthless is almost better.
I am almost a person.
I'm halfway there.
Knowing what I'm meant to be and having no way of doing it.


I feel like a caterpillar stuck in it's cocoon.
I know I'm going to fly.
I can see the sunlight and I can see the moon.
Through the thread that is now my sky....
I can see it. I can hear it.
Why can't I touch it?
I can taste how sweet tomorrow is,
And somehow I can tell that it's in better hands.
But I can't hand it a glowing kiss.
Even though I'm doing all I can.
I can't.
Take.
This.
I wish I had no hope.
I wish I had no purpose.
But he makes it so hard to forget the goodness in the world.
Someday I'll fly out and it will be the day.
But until then....
I'll stare at this thread that is my temporary sky.
And I'll search for the answer betwixt the cracks.
I'm going to be something no matter how it feels right now.
Because this life really isn't mine to live.
And all I really want is to be his.