Under the Upper Hand

And they say she's in the class A team
Stuck in her daydream
Been this way since eighteen
But lately her face seems
Slowly sinking wasting
Crumbling like pastries
And they scream
The worst things in life come free to us

Who's on the A Team? The girl who has worked so hard and is so beautifully determined just to feel confused and sad? The boy who's made it to the top only to feel disappointed in himself? The me who tries so desperately to show love for all who thank me sincerely and then never invite me to their homes or inside their souls? What about the people who we view to be so perfect, so pretty, so pleasant and pious and appealing? Surely, they are just as afflicted as the rest of us. Surely, no one is free from heartache or financial issues or the mental prisons of depression and anxiety and self-hatred. Surely, I'm not the only one who is so saddened by this.

I'd hardly ever given thought to serving a mission. For girls, it seemed like Plan B, a second try at being useful if you ended up being a homely, undesirable single woman. But now, it seems like a noble cause that is almost as required as the men. Overnight, the connotation went from a negative worldly one to an overly positive one. I can see the future being overridden people sniping at girls who choose to go to college or travel or even get married instead of going on a mission.

The nonconformist in me says to not contribute to this seemingly inevitable downward spiral. Fortunately, that's a smallish part of me, and the rest of me thinks that maybe I could do this. It would be the opportunity of a lifetime to go somewhere new, meet and discuss with and teach all manner of different people, and to, most importantly, gain and nourish a healthy testimony. I must think and pray more on this.

I've got far too much to do in the next few days and am far too tired already. It's solely my fault (she typed as the clock ticked and tocked closer and closer to midnight.)