Sometimes I read the blogs of other little girls who think they are in love, or who want to be, or who want to not be, and I realize something.
I’m not very much like them at all.
Well, I know I’m a little insane, I know I’m not quite right in the head, and I know I have hope that they don’t have, but it still worries me a bit. Cause…shouldn’t I be like them? I guess not.
I don’t want to be like them. Even if it meant I could be normal for once. Even if it meant I wasn’t so obsessed all the time. I don’t want to be like the rest. And I don’t want my love story to be like all the others. Mine is different for two reasons. One is because I have hope. No matter what happens in this world, I can never run out of love or hope because I have a love better than any man or boy could give. (That’s Jesus.)
And the other reason is because I am insane.
You think I’m making that up, I’m sure. That’s okay if you think that. It’s fine if you don’t want to believe that my O.C.D. almost killed me. That my brother wasn’t lying when he told me I was obsessed. That I live out my story as if it were just that; a story. I do what I would want a character in one of my books to do. And that is almost always a bad idea. But I do it because that is who I am.
I am who I am. Grace and love, he always tells me. “Grace and Love.”
He said that, not even knowing that those words are the literal meanings of my names.
Because as insane as I am, as broken and messed up, as confused and as done as I am, I can love. I can always love. I can always show grace, always show charity. And I’m the kind of girl who never gives up.
That’s why my story will be different. That’s why it doesn’t matter that I’m moody and bi-polar and take life too lightly.
And that just might be why he loves me.