My repetative prayer

Lord, I don't know what I'm doing anymore. This life you've given me is just passing me by and I just seem to keep messing it up. Where do I go from here? What do you want me to do with this gift you gave me? I know your love & I know your desires for me but I don't know my own desires for life, for love, for you. Father, please show me.

You girls and your daddy issues.

My theme song in life or at least in love should be Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust". The beat should just kick in as soon as I start to utter the words "I don't want to talk to you anymore, you selfish jerk!" And of course the volume can adjust accordingly as I scream out the last three words of that sentence.

I'm broken and bruised but I'm still strong enough to walk away with what I have left of myself, my pride, my heart - or what's left of it. I did my best to protect it, to shield it from the pain that it's felt in the past but I guess there's not much that can save your heart when you give it to someone who doesn't know how to care for it and doesn't care to learn. It's been abused. Stomped on, trampled over, tossed aside and shattered into tiny pieces and I know I can't clean up this disaster on my own. I wasn't the only one that made the mess but I'm the only one left to clean it up, to pick up all the pieces and try to assemble them back together. It's like a jigsaw puzzle, it's overwhelming and I'm so tired. Tired or not, this is part of the game that I chose, so foolishly, to play. I'm not wasting my time picking up each piece, one by one. I'm sweeping them all up together, taking them with me and I'll figure it out on the way out the door because I've got to go! I don't have anymore time to give, to wait, to hope.... for the nothing that I'll receive in return. I'll be wiser about who I trust with my heart next time I offer it to someone.

See dear, I don't have daddy issues. I have douche bag issues.