I am ashamed.

I\'m ashamed that I can\'t talk to anyone about what I\'m suffering with.

I\'m ashamed that I\'m doing horribly in school and jeopardizing my future.

I\'m ashamed that I can\'t reach out for help.

I\'m ashamed that I\'m not motivated to do anything.

I\'m ashamed of how I look and that I can\'t get myself to lose weight.

I\'m ashamed that I\'ve gained weight since I\'ve developed my issues.

I\'m ashamed that my family has little to no knowledge about this.

I\'m ashamed that I don\'t try hard enough.

I\'m ashamed that I push people away and never call or talk to anyone.

I hate myself for letting it get this far.

I hate myself for not getting help when it was right in front of me.

I hate that I can\'t fix anything.

But most of all, I\'m ashamed that I don\'t talk to God anymore. I try to handle everything on my own. And part of me likes that control. I can control when and who I see face-to-face. I do enjoy having time to myself. And I absolutely hate when plans change suddenly.

Why can\'t I pray anymore? Why can\'t I just be better? Why can\'t I wake up one day and just be different forever? I don\'t know what to do or say or even think anymore. Everything seems wrong. I don\'t even know who I am anymore.

I have no plans for my future. That is one of my worst nightmares come true.

I know God will take care of me, but it\'s almost impossible for me to believe that. I feel like I don\'t deserve to be taken care of. I\'m not a dynamic person. I\'m nothing special. I blend in with the rest of the world- and part of me likes that. But part of me hates that too. I want to be noticed, but guaranteed that the reaction is entirely positive. If there is any possibility that someone won\'t like me, then I\'d rather not be payed attention to. 

Forever silent. Forever invisible. And yet, I still dare to dream of being rescued by the most amazing man ever.

Wishful thinking.