No doubt, she was starving herself. She was unhappy with her image and was getting bullied for it. She had chosen to starve herself to lose weight. She had become bulimic to fool her family. Cracked lips and tired eyes plagued her life and she could barely pay attention in class. All based on the thought “Maybe, just maybe, this will work. Maybe now I will be accepted.” But the thought was not hers. The voice had crept in fooling her mind but it couldn’t fool her body. The voice told her, “You want to eat? Bite your tongue….” She laid on her bed and cried, trapped.
Read more for avoiding the trap of the enemy with Bryce Bengtson #HopeForTheNextGeneration
Imagine with me for a second that, for your entire life, you were told that the ocean was red. I’m not about to go into the details of why the red sea was named what it was, but just stay with me for a moment. Now imagine, that you are talking about the ocean with a friend. You would argue that the ocean was red as if it were a true fact because that was what you have been told. But why?
I looked at the page while putting my hands to the keys. I glanced over the notes and started playing. A#, D, C to F#, and so on. I slipped up here and there, but overall I did well. I glanced over the page again and focused on the areas I made mistakes. I looked for the hand patterns, and placement. I started over and played the piece. A few mistakes were still within the music but less than the first time. I started over once again and thought of the upcoming notes, the timings, and the hand placements. Perfect.
He kicked again, knocking the other boy down. Jackson took a step back regaining his breath while the other boy stood back up, blood gushing from his nose. Jackson didn’t have a single mark and was bewildered by the fact. The other boy refused to punch back. Jackson took another swing aiming for the other boy’s ear. His thrust was evaded as the other boy touched the cross pendant around his neck. “I love you. God loves you,” was all the other boy would say.
He tripped over his feet making his books fly everywhere. It was the seventh time he had been purposely pushed just that day. “Watch out, what are you? Dumbo?” The other boy laughed. “Excuse me? You did not just say that to him,” replied a girl standing a few feet away. She bent down and picked up a few of his books. Others did the same. “He is perfectly fine just the way he is. Why do you insist on bullying him?” she asked. She helped the boy up and handed him his books. “Come on. Let’s get to class,” she advised.