The depression that once degraded my sanity now roams aimlessly around the outside world. I am now hidden in Jesus’ perfect love but can still see her- my old demon. She EATS AWAY at others, I scream at her to leave them alone but she laughs knowing they allow her to be there. All I can do is watch from the window on the second floor as she walks silently behind the backs of people and I pray, rebuking her metacarpus from drowning them in their own thoughts. If they just turned around and looked her in those blackened eyes they would see her lifeless heartache! Jealousy! Oh how she is jealous of this life Jesus has given us, she drifts because she has been banished from the true purpose she was created for, now waiting for the wrath of God to consume her completely, a literal sitting duck, pathetic is what she is. A foot stool for my King is what she is.

I look at old pictures. Different faces, different places, but one thought- “Let the light come in.” I remember my thoughts and feelings with every day, week, month, and season. Desperate to feel anything and willing to make anything work, I dragged someone down with me. But now I have crossed the Jordan river and my thoughts have been baptized. I have walked through the water fall where the blood of Christ falls on me. The red blood that puts everything in perspective. The blood cells that contain fear, anger, and sorrow but complete surrender- washed over me.

I was at the train station waiting for my ride to come. I waited on the bench from Monday till the following Sunday. I was stuck, it seemed like a week but I was there for months. Christ came down and spoke with fire in His mouth, I wasn’t sure what I should do but He reassured me: “Do you have a heart daughter?” I nodded as tears ran down my cheeks and suicidally leaped off my face. “Then get up and walk with me because that heart belongs to me.” Not a single train has ridden by.


suitcase, closed.

I stare at my green suitcase that sits in the middle of my room, touching the bed and in the right position for the light that comes through my window to sit on directly. The images my eyes take in are mere articles of clothing while the images produced in my head are clothes I would wear walking to class or grabbing dinner in a little town far from this place. I stare at my green suitcase that holds depression and disabling sadness zipped up inside itself. I am careful to keep it shut.  I am careful to fill the empty parts of myself with your word. Fearful of manifesting anything short of your grace and not capable of lasting another attack. Wavering between the known and the unknown. My clearest answer being taking that suitcase with me to Lynchburg where there, and only there, could I open the suitcase and witness crippling depression crawl out and die before it could live in this heart again.

Instead I only hear you once in a while. I used to see you in everything, the birds, the trees, the people. Now I only see you when I read my Bible. Why is it that you are always constant while I am not. Wasn’t I made in your image? The likeness of you, breathed into me. That can’t be right when I’m here playing by your rules. What freedom do I have being your slave if happiness comes and goes? Joy is the only thing I have that is constant ,like you, but I’m only human, how long until even my dreams of you leave me, until the music I hear no longer sings your name? If I ask you to show me your Glory, am I testing you even though I’m asking out of fear of losing you? This is why I keep my suitcase closed and fight the fear with your word.

It gets bad some days, so aggressive and continuous that my Bible doesn’t leave my right hand. It no longer sleeps in my bag but fights the war in the midst of sunlight. I’m so desperate for peace in my thoughts. But wave after wave of nothingness crashes on me. I get moments of still water though, they are so indescribably sweet. You know I used to get glimpses of heaven and now the furthest thing I can imagine is the promise of change in my life in four years. I’m only supposed to think of heaven in my downfall but I can’t even sleep long enough to have a rested mind. I guess this is the part where Jesus rescues me, he is my king after all. But until then I’ll keep looking for Him on my own time, in my own heart, because God ONLY KNOWS THE CORRECTION NEEDED. Part with my soul the wicked desires that house there, Jesus please, come stand in my door way so that my mind has no other option but to look at your Glory. Please, I’m fucking desperate.





Moving Back to LA

I feel stuck and in a corner, left to nothing but Netflix and a tall glass of water. I actually came to this point, feeling alone- more like deserted. At the end of each week I still have that open circle of praising Jesus with powerful people but inside they don’t know that my weeks are filled with uncertainty and pain from my family. Each day I see them dance around my shattered dreams, stomping with elegance as if nothing tragic could happen from their parading. As if my dreams are only pictures hung up on the walls of our house. Still framed moments of hope, those are my dreams, still framed. I can’t go anywhere if my dreams are meant to stay in the house, meanwhile I’ll get yelled at if I don’t leave the house. Do something with your life Kayla. Go somewhere. Get somewhere. All things the family says and then they go burning the bridges that would get me to my promise land. Such big dreams I have for such a big God I serve. But maybe He wants me to be happy just being in the chair that I’m sleeping in tonight knowing that He’s the dream. He’s reality. He’s everything. 


This past year, this past season of amazing grace…it will never be the same. I will never have my Lala, and my Tasi, and my Baree, and my Kharen, and my Marie all around me. I will never have my unwed sister or live with Lala for a time that isn’t a visit. I will never get to be in a space where we are all their for ourselves and not for the sole purpose of being together. That’s the best way, when we arn’t there just to be in each other’s presence. I want it to stay that way forever, I was supposed to have three more years with them but that’s gone now. Jesus lead me to greener pastures, please take me away from the broken heart I have from the blessings you gave me. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

Metaphysical Realism

I feel utterly blessed to know God intimately (in a few years I will scoff at how much more intimacy I am unaware of) regardless, I’m honored. I have experienced a transformed life, constantly being replenished by Jesus. This is not always the case, but God’s goodness never fails me. I have crossed paths with new perspective on modernism in the Western World- specifically in America. The past five years of my life I have felt lonely about the wild spirituality I encounter. I felt ashamed to be a witness for the uncontrolled fire of the Holy Spirit because of society and many times because of my own sisters and brothers in Christ. I have just read a book on the culture that existed during the Medieval Ages and feel misplaced. Those people were not insecure about proclaiming a world where God was ever present. There were no boundaries between the spiritual world and their world. This is my reality, yet, so many people are at a disbelief when I share how everything points back to God or I protest about the unseen creatures of the other realm that I witness interacting with us. This was NOT religiously ridiculed but rather, was the reality of their culture. I finally feel at peace about why I have seen the things I’ve seen, it was for today, for that piece of literature I read that explained I am nothing newly spectacular but rather anciently revisited. With this light I will bring the kingdom harder because spiritual fullness in a culture existed before (not to disregard the powerful people I have met in my life because they walk with Jesus!). I want to be right here and right now with you God. You take my mind farther than I can imagine. You captivate me with new wonders and old treasures.

A Proclamation

How far do my dreams go in this life? How many of them will actually come true? Or perhaps my life is so good that my dreams will always be competing with true events? I dream, I do, of walking into those shiny gates and feeling good about myself. A heaven on earth kind of deal except the platform is information, education, and all things academic. To walk around with inner-beauty and talent beyond comprehension is one thing, those are not tangible for most people. But intellectual things, there are handfuls of people who speak this language of academia and are just out here to be plucked. Succulently plucked for my personal entertainment. I wonder many times through out a typical day what it must feel like to manifest all this knowledge. But there are of course two types, earthly and Godly, and both are desirable. Unfortunately there seems to be a stigma that both cannot coexist, but I’ll fight till I perish to hold both in this mind. Both magnificently precocious thought & acquired gentility by faith will house this head of mine. I promise that.

Potatoes & Pans

Early in the morning is when I think about you. I go to the gym to get you off my mind. I go shopping to distract myself. I drive fast to cleanse my blood from any traces of you. I pray to lock you out of my thoughts.

Sunset in the afternoon is when I think of you. I read my books so I can take my thoughts to the place where yours float. I eat my bowl of fruit to taste some sweetness. I fly on planes because I like pretending I’m on my way to see you.

Late at night is when I think about you. I play the piano to hear you one more time. I pray because God is the only one who loves you more than I do. I write because you come alive in my words. I don’t hug or hold hands with anyone in hopes that you’ll come back to me…