A New View

My name is Jense.
I had a realization last night, but I was too tired to get up and write it down. (School is killing me, I've never been this tired.) So, here we go.
Sometimes, your talents aren't meant for the world. They are meant for you.
Weird huh? It kinda blew me away.
Confused? Let me explain.
I like to play the piano. Scratch that. I love it. I like to play famous peices. I like to play popular songs. But, most of all, I like to compose my own originals. Not gonna lie, I don't think I'm that bad. I mean, for what I feel and what I go through, I think that I can get the whole feeling into 1 or 2 or 3 verses, a bridge, and a chorus pretty well. That's not easy, and most of the time, it takes me a while before the right words come.
But anyways, yes, I like to compose. But, I've always wished that everyone knew about the things I wrote. Heard the things I play.
There were a few girls that I knew that played and sang as well, and they made CDs. I always wanted to make one. I wanted to make one just to have.
That is a lie. I wanted it for others to have. I wanted them to know my words. Know my tunes. Hum them to themselves. Sing them while they cleaned the kitchen, or vacuumed the family room.
I wanted to be known. That was my goal for years. One day. One day, I would be famous.
...
Let's face it.
I never will be.
But, you know what? I've finally realized that that's ok.
Because, maybe God didn't give me this talent for that. Maybe He didn't give me the talent of being able to sight read so that I could become famous on America's Got Talent. Maybe He didn't give me the words I write so that I could make a CD. Maybe He didn't give me the ability to write songs so that I could become famous and be on the radio for everyone to hear my tunes and whistle them as the drove downtown.
Maybe, He just gave it for me.
This is for me.

Playing

My name is Jense.
I just got out of the piano room. I locked myself in there for a good hour. Just playing.
I missed hip hop. I didn't respond to texts.
I just played. And played. And played.
I remember being little, and telling my parents they should let me quit. "I'll never use it when I'm older. What good will it do?"
"You'll thank us later." That's always what they said.
"That will be the day..." I never finished. I never believed them.
I just got out the piano room. Just playing. Playing. Musicals. Pop. Hymns. Originals.
Thanks Mom and Dad. For not letting me quit. For forcing me to stick with it. For making me practice all those hours. You not only made it possible for me to play songs.
You made it possible for me to heal.

Revise my Plan

My name is Jense.
I may have to revise my plan a lil bit. Just a lil.
Or a lot. Gosh. This changes everything. I never thought this would happen.
But with each passing day, I become more and more sure of it. Which scares me a little.
Actually, it scares me a lot. A lot a lot. Oh man.
I guess I should have seen it coming. I've had so many hints. For like, a year now. But I still don't want to accept it. It's impossible. Very much impossible. Other girls do this. Other girls get this feeling. I'm not suppose to! I'm not suppose to get this feeling! I'm not suppose to do this!
...
Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
Ok. All right. It's gonna be ok.
I've got a while.
I can make a new plan.

Thoughts through Time

My name is Jense.
I'm confused. A little bit.
I've thought about this when I was younger. Like, 15 or 16. I thought I really wanted it. I wanted to do it. I was set on it.
Then, 17 or 18, I thought "There's no way. No way. No how. Can't. Won't. Think again, Pal!"
Now, 19, I'm thinking again. "Seriously? Someone like me? I can't do this! I mean, I'm just... me! Just me! You know me! Better than I know me! And I know I can't do it!"
...
....
.....
No. Can't.
...
....
.....
Maybe?
...
....
.....
But, You know me.
...
....
.....
Is this what I'm suppose to do?
...
....
.....
Look, will You just tell me and stop messing with my head and dreams???
...
....
.....
Just tell me what to do.
And I'll do it.

I'd believe you

My name is Jense.
I realized something today.
If you were to write me, and tell me you loved me, I'd believe you.
If you were to tell me it was all just a mistake, I'd believe you.
If you were to tell me that my eyes were the most beautiful that you've ever seen, I'd believe you.
If you were to tell me there's still a chance, I'd believe you.
I believed everything you ever said. I believe everything you say. I'll believe everything you will say.
And you know that, don't you?
...
Don't you?

Bottle it up

My name is Jense.
This is a message for you, as well as for me.
Don't force me to talk.
I really dont know how else to say it.
Lately, I've been listening to peoples fears and worries. Mainly about love. The discovery of love. The absence of love. The loss of love.
That's ok with me. This is their time to worry. This is their time to be scared. This is their time to talk.
Not mine.
Bottle it up. Put it away. Be strong. I gotta to be. I need to be. It's not my time. It's theirs.
That is my mentality lately.
Which is why I haven't been communicating recently.
Sure, I talk. Sure, I'll respond to a text or message. But, you don't really know what's going on. There's so much going on in my head. My heart. My being. More than I allow the naked eye to see.
You don't know. You might think you do, but you don't. Not saying I blame you, cuz I don't. Why would I? I'm the one that haven't been talking.
I don't want to talk. I want to think. Ponder. Bottle it up.
Let me be.
I promise. I will come to you when I'm ready.

The goal of Life

My name is Jense.
I once heard an amazing quote by an amazing man.
"Life isn't about seeking out who you are. It's about seeking out who you want to become."
Daddy is right.
Who do I want to become?

Just Existing

My name is Jense.
Just now, one of my roommates came in and asked me what was wrong with me.
I honestly didn't know. I didn't realize I seemed so mad.
What's going on with me?
I don't get it.
I can't take it.
I don't like it.
What's going on?
I'm not happy. I'm not sad. I'm not mad. I'm not feeling hopeless or anything.
Am I even here?
Where am I?
Who am I?
I'm just existing.

The Truth

My name is Jense.
Wanna know the truth?
I'm always gonna think about you.
I'm always gonna remember those times when you held my hand and my heart did backflips.
I'm always gonna remember how warm you felt when you held me in your arms.
I'll always feel your hand on my face.
I'll always see those eyes that looked at me after a kiss.
I'll always remember your smile.
I'll always remember those curls.
I'll always smile when I think of the good times.
I'll always cry when I think about the bad times.
I'll always blush when I think about the embarrassing times.
I'll always laugh when I think about the funny times.
I still think about that time when we walked in the woods,
And the time when we went to the park, and played on the jungle gym.
And that time when my window wipers stopped working in the middle of the rainstorm, and how you made me sit in the passenger seat while you drove so that we wouldn't die.
That time when we danced in the rain.
That time we held each other close when we set off fireworks.
I'll never let you forget that time when you said I had "bug eyes."
The first time you held my hand.
I'll always smile a little when I think about the times when we would out run a cop.
I'll always be eternally grateful for the times that you would come see me in a play, just to be there for me, even when you had a lot of other things to do.
The times you comforted me when no one else could.
The times whenever you told me I was beautiful.
I still lose my breath when I think of the times you would play with my hair.
I still feel anger when I think about those stupid fights we had, which 95% of the times, I was right.
I'll still feel happiness when I think about the nice little things you did so that I would feel better about myself.
But you wanna know the real truth?
I'm always gonna love you.

I am Worth It

My name is Jense.
Last night, for the first time in I don't know how long, I watched The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.
That's an extremely great show. With lots and lots of symbolism.
Anyways, so I was watching this movie. And it made me think a lot.
But there's one thought in particular that I thought I'd share.
You know that part when Aslan and the Witch were discussing how they were going to compromise the Law of the Land, because Edmund betrayed everyone? And how Edmund really should be owned by the Witch? That's like us.
I know C.S. Lewis wrote this because he was symbolically talking about Christ, but I'm looking at this through a Mormon's view.
Anyways, the movie got to the point when Aslan was walking to his death. Willingly. For Edmund.
I watched how all the Witch's followers spat on him, and mocked him as he walked through to the top of the hill. How they called him "The Great King." How the Witch began telling him that he was doing this for no real good reason. How it would all fail.
I thought of how Christ walked up to Calvary Hill, knowing what was in store for Him, knowing what He was doing. How everyone mocked Him, and spat on Him. I started thinking about Him in the Garden of Gethsemane, crying.
I thought how He did it for me. For me personally. Just like Aslan did it for Edmund, personally. Because He loved him, and He knew what his potential could be. Just like how Christ knows my potential.
Then I thought, "He did it because He loves me. He did it because I'm worth it to Him."
If I'm worth it to the Greatest Being of All, the Lord of Lords, The Redeemer and Savior, shouldn't I find myself of worth it?
I began to cry.

Scars

My name is Jense.
I came up with a thought tonight.
Scars can heal, but they are never gone.
Interesting things, scars are. Each one has a story. Like the one on my wrist, when I was 4, and I burned myself with the curling iron. Or the one on my thigh, when I fell off my scooter going down a hill and slid down the road head first. The scar doesn't hurt, but it's still there. People see them.
But not all scars are seen.
Some are hidden, deep inside the deepest parts of our hearts.
Scars can heal, but they are never gone. Not even after a year. 2 years. 10. 100. Now.
I see you, and it still hurts. I see you, and the wound is fresh. It deepens.
This scar is still healing.
This scar will always be healing.

A Secret Worth Knowing

My name is Jense.
I have a secret.
Our secret.
Sounds romantic, huh? Well. It's not.
Wanna hear? It's a secret worth knowing.
I could start from 8th grade, how he told me that I had the biggest eyes that he'd ever seen, and how I was so offended, and wore sunglasses all day, and he felt so bad, and then we became best friends that week. How he told me he liked me, even if it was just for that week.
Then I could go on from 9th grade, how I secretly still really cared for him, but my best friend liked him, so I backed off.
Or I could start from 10th grade, where he and I had our fall out time, and how he accused me of having a boyfriend. How we didn't talk half the year, but he still gave me a very nice gift and card for my birthday, after a tough break up. How we became close again.
Then again, I could start from the summer before Junior year, when he and I began to hang out quite a bit, and how that old spark that never really died out started to rekindle. How he asked me to homecoming, and held my hand. All those texts. All the nights we would just sit and talk. That cold day in February when he told me he really liked me, and had never stopped since 8th grade. He told me not to tell. How we texted constantly from that day on. The dates. Those fun, fun dates. May 15, 2009, when we had our first kiss. He told me he loved me. I told him to be careful what he said. That love was a very strong word. How we kissed more, that night at the park. Having that summer romance, that he didn't want me telling anyone about. June 15, 2009, when he kidnapped me in the rain to take me to lunch. The day we walked in the woods, and said he thought I was beautiful. How towards the end of summer, he started dating other girls, trying to make me feel jealous, because he knew he could.
Let's not forget Senior year. When I was left so confused. He told me he liked me, then ignored me for other girls. "He likes me. He says I'm special." That was the excuse. The hope. All 1st trimester that's how it was. Flirt with girls in front of me, knowing I would keep quiet. Knowing I was too afraid to speak up. New Year's Eve night, when he told me we would hang out all night, but then he ditched all of us to go to another girls house. How he slowed danced with her at the last dance when he came back. How I cried that night. I knew then I couldn't do this anymore. Stopped talking to him. Rebounded. Then, right around graduation, becoming friends again. Talking. The spark that still hasn't died rekindled again.
Summer dates.
Those texts.
"You are so extrodinarily beautiful and amazing."
"My favorite night of us was homecoming. You looked so stunningly beautiful that night. I loved dancing with you."
"Night Love."
"Night Jense."
I kept them for so long.
September 28th 2010 when he kissed me at the pillars. Told me he cared. Told me he always did and always will.
That November night, when we tried to ice skate, and he kissed me by surprise.
The last couple weeks before he was gone, playing basketball. Telling secrets. Holding hands.
The night we went sledding. He kissed me again. Held my hand.
January 1, 2011. Our last date. Before we both were to depart from the lives we have both grown up in. He kissed me. So many times. Told me he cared. Told me not to be scared. Told me I was amazing.
"I want you to know that I really cared for you and I always did."
He did all of that.
Lies.
All lies.
To you that feel like you were special to him, and thought you were "The One", I say this.
Guess what?
You ain't.
You were played. Just like me.
I don't doubt you weren't allowed to say anything either, huh?
Well. After 2 years of staying quiet, I'm opening my mouth.
And I feel a whole hell of a lot better.