Intrusive

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Never before had these intrusive thoughts felt so distant as they morphed and transformed into something more acceptable.

The entirety of my entry was covered in motivational quotes and thoughts, my notes of scripture tattooing black ink across my journal. The page crinkled, the sound soothing my frayed nerves as my eyes endlessly skimmed the page.

I had finally created a manageable plan for myself and I was willing to work hard towards completing that goal.

My page was filled with ideas on how to turn my life back around. I wanted to lose weight to return to my original level of health and body-confidence. I wanted to pursue journal entries similar to diary entries I had completed when I was a kid.

I rubbed away the ink that was staining my hand, admiring the small sketches I had attempted to create on the paper. I had drawn a mirror with sticky-notes surrounding it, aspiring to remind myself daily about things I appreciated about myself and my image. I had drawn a girl who was crying, no longer out of self-pity and hate, but rather out of joy and relief that the hard times were slowly subsiding. Hearts littered the page as the motivational words warmed my own.

I wanted to love myself again.

I wanted to love Him again.

And I was prepared to do that.