I didn’t go to church yesterday. Bible study is off for the month of July. I have been neglecting to read my bible everyday. Basically, I’m slacking on my Christian duties, and it’s because I haven’t felt very godly recently. 

My decisions for the past month were not of Him, and while I know I have grace, I still didn’t feel worthy to come before the Lord. Despite my lapse in Christian behavior, a small, desperate part of me continued to pray. 

I called out to the Lord multiple times over the last four weeks, “Lord, please close the doors you do not wish me to walk through, and may the ones you do swing wide open.” Now, I said these words, but the larger, selfish part of me hoped He wouldn’t listen. I wanted to do what I wanted!

Thankfully, my prayer was answered anyway this past weekend. Sure, it took one last bad decision to convince me the Lord has more in store for me. Plus a conversation with my best friend to realize I was selling myself short. But, I am capable of so much more than I have been doing, so why was I defying both my logic and values to do what feels good in the moment? 

The honest answer is that I’m human. I’m weak, selfish, and confused. However, if I take the time to empty myself of toxic thoughts and worldly desires, I can be filled with the light of the Lord. 

He loves me.

I break His heart a million times over, but he still loves me. Except for my mom, I know I will never find another love like His. And all I can do to repay Him is try to honor Him in all that I do, and love others as He loves me. 

God closed a door this weekend–two, as a matter of fact. And while I’m not quite sure where the next open one is, I know it exists, and I’m excited to go through it. Prayer works, y’all. You just have to keep your eyes and heart open to receive the message the Lord is sending you. 

Until next time,

❤ Severn


I keep trying to write about you, and I keep failing. I don’t know what it is. I can’t seem to get the words right. I try to explain that… well that’s just it. I can’t explain it. My pen hangs in mid-air, refusing to connect my thoughts to the page, refusing to let my feelings out of their cage.

Maybe I’m afraid. Understand, I’ve been here before, twice, actually. Neither time ended particularly well, so I guess my hesitation makes sense. You see, the second I start to express these feelings on paper is the second they turn into romanticized… mush.

“And our portrait will be painted in the clouds so that everyone can dance in the strokes of our kisses and learn from the slightly off colors of our palette.”

I really wrote those words. I thought I was in love, and that, apparently, is quite inspiring. I wrote something like that almost every day during that time. It didn’t always make the most sense, but it sounded nice…

Anyway, I think that’s why I can’t really write about you, Roo. What I feel about us is simple: happy. We’re friends, and we grow closer everyday–I like that. Learning about you is somehow teaching me things about myself, too. I appreciate that–I appreciate you. And sure, I could come up with some similes and metaphors about how it feels to hold your hand, or make you laugh, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to turn you into an unrealistic fantasy. I think for once, I want to slow down. I just want to feel what I’m feeling for as long as I can feel it until keeping it to myself is no longer an option.

And then it will end.

And I’m okay with that, but for now? For now, just know that I like you. And while we will remain nothing more than friends, I hope that you like me, too.


Words have been pushing

against the inside of my lips,

dying to dive from the depths

of my soul.

I can’t say them out loud,

so instead I let them flow

from my fingertips.


From the Book I Will Write One Day: Frosting Part 2

“Why not?” he whined.

“Come on,” I sighed, ” you know why not.”

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” I stared at him.

“And why can’t we do that here?”

“It’s just more private there!” He was frustrated now, a scowl on his face. “Fine!” he said, his voice raised.

“What do you want me to do?” I pleaded. He just shook his head, suddenly calm.

“Nothing, never mind,” he said simply. I got up from the couch an went upstairs. Janie’s room was open and empty, so I went in and sat on the bed.

What are you doing? I asked myself for the second time that night. You know you want to. Just do it, no one will ever know–his girlfriend sure won’t. Besides, he obviously likes you more than her, otherwise he wouldn’t be doing this.

I took out my phone and sent him a message, “Come upstairs.” I waited three minutes with no response. I checked downstairs and he was sitting on the couch, still cradling his beer. I went and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned I told him to check his phone. He said he hadn’t gotten anything, so I whispered for him to meet me upstairs in five minutes. He said he had to go soon because his brother was waiting for him. Taken aback, I told him it was fine, just go. He didn’t move and I went back upstairs.

Sitting on the bed I was really nervous. Then a thought occurred to me. This isn’t my room. Silly, I know since it was so obvious, but I had forgotten. Technically, it wasn’t Janie’s either, she was just staying there. I went out to find the owner and ask to use it. She said, “Sure!” and showed me how to lock the door. She pulled out a futon for me so we didn’t have to use her bed. I wasn’t planning on going that far regardless. She left.

*Knock knock knock*

I got up to open the door, and there he was. I let him in and the shut the door behind him. I sat on the futon.

“So what’s up?” he asked

What’s up?” He looked at me expectantly, eyebrows raised. “What do you think?” I was the exasperated one now.

“I don’t know, I thought maybe you wanted to talk?”

“You think I brought you to a room upstairs at a party to talk,” I repeated in a monotone.

“No,” he shook his head slightly, finally realizing what I wanted. He sat on the futon and I straddled him. I leaned in to kiss him and closed my eyes. I felt him grow harder as I bit his bottom lip before sticking my tongue in his mouth.

This kiss felt different, wrong. His mouth was too wet, we were sloppy. He stopped me. “How far is this going?” He was searching my eyes in my silence.

I slowly unbuttoned my shirt. Once it was off I got anxious. He spanked me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pulled away from him.

“What, you don’t like that anymore?”

“I never really did, to be honest.” He looked confused.

“Okay… well, what do you like?” he asked.

“Pull my hair,” I said simply. He grabbed a hand full of my curls and yanked my head back. My heart sped up and I kissed him again, more aggressively this time. He unbuttoned my shorts and I took off his shirt.

His body was just as I remembered it, and the familiarity of it pushed the guilt out of mind. “Do you have a condom?”

From the Book I Will Write One Day: Frosting

The party was happening all around us, but we sat quietly on the couch. I watched as one guy tried to teach my friend Sweetie, a small Asian girl, how to dance bachata. She would have been awkward normally, but with the alcohol in her system she was determined to learn and followed him closely.

“Want a cupcake?” he asked me. I looked to my left and there he was: dark curly hair, perfect lips, brown eyes, and the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen. He held his Corona with both hands.

“Sure,” I replied. We jumped over the back of Janie’s couch and took three steps into the kitchen. He grabbed one of the vanilla frosted chocolate cupcakes Janie, Sweetie, and I had made for Harold’s birthday. We just stood there for a second, people walking back and forth between us. He let me take the first bite.

With the cupcake half finished we went back to the couch. I sat to his right and looked at my lap. What are you doing? I asked myself. He still has a girlfriend!

You’re not doing anything! I argued back. It’s just a cupcake!

“Here”, he said, snapping me out of my internal argument. He held his hand out, a bit of frosting on his extended index finger. I looked at him blankly. “Here,” he repeated, bringing his finger closer to me. I looked at him and covered the tip with my mouth, careful not to use my tongue, like that mattered. I looked away and swallowed, cursing myself for going along with his obvious flirting.

“Here,” I heard again. Without a second thought I wrapped my lips around his finger again. Dammit, Severn!

“You’re not going to give me any?” he asked, not meeting my eyes. I carefully scooped a bit of frosting with my index finger and offered it to him. I held my breath as he grabbed my hand and put his mouth on my finger. His eyes focused on my arm, but my eyes were glued to his. His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue soft. He extracted my finger slowly, sucking slightly until the frosting was gone. My heart hammered in my chest and I was tingling between my legs when I finally exhaled.

“Last one,” he said, his frosting covered finger three inches from his face. I leaned in closer to lick it off, and as soon as I finished he kissed me. It was a slow, soft kiss, the kind that started at my lips but spread warmth through my entire body. When he stopped my face was hot. He came in for another, but I turned my head.

“No,” I said.

“Come on, let’s go to my car,” he murmured into my neck.

“No!” I repeated, shoving him off, angry at such an offensive suggestion.


Adulting || Dating

Guys. I joined Bumble.

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Full disclosure: I don’t actually know that I’m ready to date again yet. As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, I’ve never been “just dating”. I’m either in a relationship, single and lonely, or single and slutty. (Note to self: talk to therapist about this.)

Beau and I have only been broken up for about 5 weeks, BUT in perspective… That’s almost half the length of our relationship.

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Yes, I thought I was going to marry the dude (you just know, right?), but the other person kind of has to be on the same page in order for that to happen.  (._.)

So yeah. I’m not exactly ready to start dating; I don’t exactly know what dating entails, but I joined Bumble. It’s a fun time-waster, and I get a little ego-boost every time I match with a hot guy (even if I let the match expire by not actually saying anything to them).

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I also think part of the reason I joined is control. I like having it, and recently I’ve felt like I’ve lost it. Bumble let’s me have all the control I want. Swipe whichever way I want, talk to matches or don’t–it’s all up to me!

Don’t get me wrong–I know there are lots of other arenas in which I can claim control, but hear me out here: This is the only one that attacked me and left my heart broken. So I feel that even if buzzing on Bumble (I just made that up) leads to absolutely nothing (which I’m sure it will), I can at least be assured that it was my decision.

#FakeAdulting for the win. Woo!

Oh, and best case scenario I meet someone and fall in love, but I’m not counting on it, haha.

Yay Dating!

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Proverbs 4:23

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

Marley sent this verse to me yesterday. She told me I should lift this up to God in prayer and ask him to help me guard my heart, and to help me decide when a person is deserving of my love. 

If you guys, even if you don’t know me, could do the same I would really appreciate it. 

Because Marley is right. When I love, I love with everything I have, with my entire heart. It doesn’t matter if the relationship is platonic, familial, or romantic. If I love you, know that it is a fierce, all-encompassing love. 

But I guess that makes me vulneralble, how could it not? And so asking God to help me figure out who I can and should give my heart to is necessary. It is so painful to love that fiercly and not receive the same in return. Sometimes the person just isn’t capable of it, sometimes they’re just not capable of it with me. Regardless, I can’t give my heart to just anybody. They have to be worthy, they have to be willing reciprocate.

I get it now, I have to slow down. Even if my feelings are painfully strong and obvious– like with Beau–I have to slow down. 

When Beau and I went out that first time, I felt like God was with me, like he orchestrated the whole thing and was telling me, “Yes, this one. You are supposed to be with him.” His presence that night was just so strong. But even if that is what God was telling me, that didn’t mean, “Okay now plan the rest of your life together.” 

I have to remember that being with someone, loving them, accepting them, and expecting them to do the same takes TIME. I’ve always been an impatient person… Now that I’m alone I suppose I have more time to work on that. 

Guard my heart. Once upon a time I wrote a story about a dragon who guards my heart. When someone tries to get close the dragon roars his breath of fire, hardening the castle that is my heart even more, but the water from the moat around it (to keep people out of course) would splash and soothe the burns because I crave intimacy.

The thing is, when I wrote that story, I wasn’t thinking about how I actually behave in romantic relationships. As I said, in that case I’m all in–dragon be damned. I jump, eyes wide open to watch myself fall–first in love, then to my demise. 

Seems silly now that I have a visual. Why would I bring that on myself? 

Part of me knew something like this would happen. Every time I would thank God for sending me Beau, I would also make sure to tell Him that I was SO appreciative and PLEASE don’t take him away. Why would I even mention that if I didn’t know on some level it wasn’t going to last. We went wrong somewhere along the way. 

It’s okay, though. I know God has a plan for me. Part of me still really believes Beau and I belong together, but I know I can’t just make that decision on my own. All I can do is pray that he sees it, too, that he sees just how perfect with and for each other we are, and pray that we find our way back to each other in that way when the timing is better. When we both know who we are and what we want. We can be friends again if nothing else (eventually). He said he doesn’t want to lose me, and I believe him. And more importantly I don’t  want to lose him either. I know that he cares for me deeply, and we need as many people in our lives to love us as possible.

Also, I have to pray for God to reveal his plan to me when I need guidance. Because maybe I’m not supposed to be with Beau. Maybe God has other things in store for me. What I have to do now is focus on me, building my life, pursuing my passion and goals, and becoming the best, most complete me I can be. 

Or at least I can try. 


It’s unfair how quickly our worlds can change. It’s unfair that we have no say in some things. 

Beau and I broke up. I’ve typed the words about 5 times already, letting some close friends know, but it still feels like a dagger is piercing my heart every time I read them to myself. 

It all happened so fast. Basically Beau isn’t in love with me. He loves me, but he’s not in love with me. 

I’m in love with him. 

I was talking to my mom about it yesterday after it happened and I was trying to figure out how he could have missed the falling part. For me, it happened early, after a few deep, long talks and then the feeling grew stronger as time passed. I guess he needed more than a few deep, long talks. 

It feels like he’s not giving us a chance. Not everyone is me. Some people take longer than even three and half months to fall in love with someone, especially if they don’t let themselves be vulnerable. It’s hard to be sure of something like that.

But I guess it’s easy to be sure you’re not in love with them. 

He wants time to be selfish, to work on the things he wants to work on without worrying about taking a step back in our relationship to do the “vetting” we sort of rushed through in the beginning. If he was in love with me, figuring out how to do both would obviously be the way to go, but he’s not. But at the same time, I think that step we seemingly skipped is where he would have fallen. Not even trying now is what hurts the most. 

He said that after he figures all his other stuff out he can go back and figure out if a relationship is what he wants. But fuck just any relationship, I want him to want me. 

We talked so much about the future. About growing together and lifting each other up. Helping each other become the people we want to be, build the lives we want to have. We talked about our wedding day and company holiday parties and the new fitness program we were going to sign up for at New Year’s.

I thought we were doing great. Just last week we were talking about how happy we were and date ideas and coming up with a handshake. And then Friday there was a spat of sorts, Saturday the end seemed eminent, and yesterday it happened. Yesterday I lost one of the most important things I felt I had.

And that’s really it, I feel like I’ve lost him. He wants to be friends, but I told him I need space. Part of that is also the fact that he didn’t seem like he was hurting at all. I could barely talk with how hard I was crying, and he was just watching me, stoic, guarded. Does he not feel like he lost something, too? Do I really matter that much less than the other things he’s chosen over me? How can he be so emotionally removed from all of this?

I know that this isn’t my fault. I know that I’m fucking awesome, and I told him that, too. But that doesn’t change the fact that time and time again I am in this situation where the person I choose to give my entire heart to can’t seem to do the same. I’m tired of not being loved back in the same way. 

I’m sick of being heartbroken. 

I’m tired of not being the girl the guy falls in love with. 

I DESERVE to be that girl. 

Objectively I know this is the right thing to do. It sucks and it hurts, but I can’t sit here and wait for him. Even if our relationship isn’t his top priority it should at least be top 3! And if he can’t do that, we shouldn’t be together. I know I deserve better, and he knows it, too. 

I just wish my heart would stop hurting. I just wish I didn’t have to go on this journey of finding my passion and figuring myself out alone. I was so set to do it with Beau by my side. And I was so ready to invest in him doing all the same things as well.

My heart is big enough to do all those things. It’s been broken three or four times before, but it’s STILL capable of all that. 

But again, everyone is not me. 

That’s just the reality of the world. 

MBTI || INFJ Part 2

Hey, are you busy? The message is from an unknown number.

Who is this? I don’t even apologize for not having their number saved.

Dan, from the coffee shop? Oh. Right. I’m not actually busy, but do I feel like talking to him right now? My phone vibes again.

I was wondering if I could call you. If you’re not busy, I mean. Sigh.


Thirty seconds later my phone rings. I move from my place at the kitchen table to the comfy chair in my room before answering.


“Hey, it’s Dan!” I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, I know… we just talked about this,” I say.

“Right, heh… So how are you?” he asks, trying to move past the awkwardness I’d created.

“I’m fine, and you?” I return.

“I’m good! I was thinking we could talk on the phone a bit before our date, get all the awkwardness out now, ya know?”

I purposely pause for an extra beat. “Yeah. Sure.”

“So… where are you from?” he asks, clearly picking up on the fact that I’m not going to make this easy for him.

Honestly, I hate small talk. People always say that you should be open to new things, and building walls to keep people out is unhealthy. But I disagree. Why should everyone I come into contact with who thinks to ask me about myself be privy to any part of my life story? What if this person never amounts to anyone particularly important in my life? It’s a waste of time.

Sometimes, someone comes along who skips the small talk and goes straight for the goods. Like “What are you passionate about?” “What was your childhood like?” (way different from “Where are you from?”) “How do you feel about the state of humanity?” And then “Why do you hate people?” Dan isn’t off to a good start.

“I’m from Chicago,” I say. “I’ve lived here my whole life except for when I left to college.”

“Oh nice! And you came back after college, too? You must really like it here.”

“Yeah…it’s home.” Pause. “Where are you from?”

“Pittsburgh! Yeah, I grew up there and then I went to school at Northwestern. After graduation I just decided to stay in the city.”

“Cool, cool.”Longer pause.

“Why are you so cold? You don’t have to talk to me.” He suddenly sounds frustrated. I feel a slight pang of guilt.

*deep breath*

“I’m sorry, I just don’t really like small talk. And I know I don’t have to talk to you, but you put a lot of effort into getting my number. For whatever reason, I feel like I have to at least give you a chance. Blame my mother.”

“Your mother?”

“She told me to be more adventurous, more open to new things.”

“Then I’ll thank her, not blame her.” The frustration is gone from his voice, and he seems pleased to have gotten more than two sentences out of me. “Why did she tell you to be more adventurous?”

As I’ve done so many times before, I contemplate how much I want to tell him. I decide to avoid the topic of my depression, but telling him I’m an introvert wouldn’t be so bad, right?

“I tend to keep to myself. I prefer to be alone, really. She just worries about me, worries that I don’t have enough friends, that I spend too much time reading books and in my head.”

“Do you not have friends?” he asks, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

“Of course I have friends!” It comes out more defensive than I mean it to. “I have all the friends I need,” I say more calmly.

“Wellll clearly not enough by your mother’s standards,” he chides. I think he might be smiling.

“I’m sorry, are you trying to get me to like you?” I’m not smiling, but I’m not not enjoying this.

“Oh, so I have a chance? I was beginning to lose hope!” I roll my eyes.

“I didn’t say anything about having a chance.”

“Hm, you are very intriguing. I stand by my puzzle statement.” He’s definitely smiling.

“And I stand by mine. I am not yours to figure out.”

“I’m not so worried about finding the solution; I just want to spend time…flipping all the pieces over to get an idea of what I’m working with.”

I stay quiet. I’m not sure how I feel about this statement.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m here,” I quietly reply.

“Okay, so… you’re still down to let me take you on a date?”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Can you pick me up Friday at 8?”

“Actually I was thinking day-date. How’s Saturday for you?”

A day-date? Day-dates were for friends, for people I know I like to spend time with. Starting early means I can’t use “It’s getting late” as an excuse if I want to go home. A day with a guy I just met made me so anxious just to think about, I don’t know if–

“Did I lose you again? You get lost in your thoughts a lot, huh?” I can almost see his perfect teeth in front me.

“Saturday works,” I say slowly. “I’ll be free after 12.” I’ll be free before 12, but I will probably need at least the morning to be alone. My battery is going to have to be fully charged if I’ll be spending the day with this particular boy. I have a feeling he’s going to require a lot of energy.

“Perfect! So I’ll pick you up at 12:30. You can text me your address whenever. Can’t wait!” His excitement softens my face a little. Until this point I didn’t even realize it was so tense.

“Great. So… I’ll see you Saturday?” I ask, hoping to end this phone call.

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were done talking…” he replies. Dammit.

“Oh. Uh, I guess I can talk for a little longer…”

To be continued…

MBTI || INFJ Part 1

“Is someone sitting here?” There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I look up from my computer screen at the person who interrupted my writing. He’s pointing to the seat next to me, eyebrows raised, waiting for my answer.

I shake my head silently, not even bothering to remove my headphones. He doesn’t need to know that I’m not actually listening to anything.

He pulls out a notebook and starts to write, glancing around at the other coffee-shop goers every few minutes. His eyes land on my screen a few times, so I turn the brightness and down and angle it slightly away from him. He notices.

“You writing about me on there?” he asks with a sly grin. Out of the corner of my eye I see his teeth are perfect. His parents definitely splurged on braces.

“What?” I ask, pretending not to have heard him while I shift my headphones from my ear.

“You moved your screen away from me, so I asked if you were writing about me.” His unfaltering grin annoys me.

“No.” I put my headphones back in place.

He raises his eyebrows and presses his lips together. “Oookay… just trying to make conversation.”

I look at him. Then I look back to my computer, then back at him. “What about this set up makes you think I want to talk.” It’s a statement; no answer is sought. I turn back to my screen.

“None of it, BUT–” he slams his notebook shut for emphasis. “You seem like the kind of person who doesn’t like human interaction.”

I side-eye him. Why is he still talking? I should just leave. My book can wait. He totally ruined the flow I had going anyway.

He tilts his head, again waiting for an answer. I remain silent.

“Just as I suspected,” His annoying grin is back.

“Do you do this to everybody you sit next to?” I ask, pulling my headphones down around my neck.

“Only the ones that seem starved for human contact.”

“I am not starved for human anything! You don’t even know me!”

“Hi, I’m Dan,” he sticks out his hand, still smiling.

I look up at the ceiling, blink, take a deep breath and look back at him. “Nice to meet you, Dan, I’m leaving.” I gather all my stuff in one arm and stuff it in my bag as I make my way to the door.

He picks up his notebook and runs to open the door for me. I stop struggling with my bag.

“Can you just quit?”

“Why won’t you give me a shot?” The shadow of his grin lingers.

“Because you have no boundaries!”

“Ah, I am determined to figure you out.”

“I’m not a puzzle.”

“Well, you seem puzzling.”

“I’m not your puzzle.”

“But you could be.” The shadow grin is gone. His voice isn’t as playful as before, just quiet, like he realized he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “Just let me take you out. Just once?” his voice rises a bit again.

I think for a long ten seconds. Well, I told my mom I’d be more adventurous. I sighed.


He breaks into a wide smile. Dumb, perfect teeth.

He holds his notebook out while I write my number down.

To be continued…