Dear God,
I’m sitting on a row of chairs by the airport’s sliding doors, wishing I were lying down with a soft pillow—better yet, in my own bed. I’m so exhausted, but I’m an hour and forty-five minutes too early to check my bag.
I’m lying awkwardly, twisted, with my torso leaning against that hard metal arm separator thing, my head resting on my military travel bag. I hate Spirit Airlines. They’re never on time. I’ve noticed that almost every flight I take with them is delayed—sometimes by four hours. I just want to go home.
I just came from Dom’s hypnosis seminar. I don’t really buy it. At the end, he hypnotized everyone and said, “Your eyelids are so heavy. You’re trying to open them, but you can’t.” When he said that, I opened my eyes easily—then closed them again so I wouldn’t be disrespectful while everyone else was participating.
There were a lot of people there who had gone bankrupt or experienced deep trauma. The main thing I took away was that sometimes people are afraid of success. That’s not me. Then he talked about celebrities and rockstars turning to drugs, and honestly, I felt lost.
But I did get the phone number of a nice woman named Crystal. I’m going to text her to see if she can share her notes since I’m not staying for the entire seminar. I’ll listen to the hypnosis tapes while I’m in Miami. I won’t be doing much there anyway—just eating, sleeping, going to class, maybe working out, and hopefully spending one warm day at the beach.
Since I’ve been in LA, I’m sure I’ve lost weight. I’ve been eating mostly healthy. Plus, Shervy is super skinny, and I tend not to eat around him. He doesn’t eat all day—just a pizza or a taquito at night, then somehow poops it all out the next morning.
Today I ate half a bag of chips, a slice of garlic bread, half a piece of salmon, a Caesar salad, and two decaf lattes.
I’m so tired. My eyes are getting heavy. I’ll try to rest for a bit…
Hours and hours passed.
Now I’m in the guest room—the one my dad sleeps in when he snores too loud, or where family stays when they visit. It used to be my room, but my siblings wanted to avoid favoritism, so it became “the guest room.” I don’t care. I don’t even sleep well here. I’ll always choose my own bed.
My dad picked me up from the airport. I was recognized today—one of the first times that’s ever happened. Funny thing is, I was faking an injury (like I always do) to get wheelchair assistance. I wonder if he thinks I’m constantly breaking bones or just pretending.
That’s one thing I’ll miss—wheelchair assistance. I just wear my mom’s arm sling and get whisked through the airport. Is it right? No. But I meet the nicest people that way. Today it was Mrs. MaryAnn from Miami. She was so sweet. Her husband, Mr. Louis, is dying.
She told me he’s had cancer twice, four massive brain aneurysms, and is currently in hospice—he could pass at any moment. Spirit Airlines canceled her flight with no compensation. Now she has to fly to Orlando and take a three-hour bus ride just to reach him.
Lord, I pray for healing and restoration for Mr. Louis. And if it’s his time, please let him know You and see the pearly gates of heaven. Hold Mrs. MaryAnn in Your loving arms. Please don’t let her miss her flight. She wanted Chick-fil-A—I pray she gets not only a good meal, but compensation for everything she’s lost because of that cancellation.
In one week alone, Spirit Airlines has wasted six to eight hours of my life just waiting for planes. The pilots are there too—I don’t blame them. I just don’t understand why other airlines don’t have such a bad reputation.
I hope I fall asleep soon. I’ve been awake for thirty hours. My dad spoiled me—picked me up, made breakfast. Mom ordered me to shower immediately to avoid germs, washed my clothes, and even gave me sleeping pills since I don’t sleep well during the day. I may not be rich, but I am rich in their love.
I don’t have much else to say, God, except that I love You. I want to make the right choices. I’ve had to make so many lately—meet with a producer or study? Go to Vegas or study? I’m choosing studying over everything now.
I just need to grab my black slacks, khakis, solid blouses, any forgotten shoes, and my red-light therapy belt—for bloating or anxiety.
For breakfast, I had bacon, eggs, grits, and toast. I don’t remember how much I ate, but I do remember eating most of the bacon. Tonight, Mom made lots of vegetables—her way of keeping me healthy and focused for school.
Truth is, I need to study. Sleep. Pack. Study. Drive to my place. Get my nails done. Do everything today. I fly out tomorrow morning at 9 a.m.—less than 24 hours from now.
Jesus, I can’t do this without You. Thank You for letting me meet a fan today. He pointed at me and asked me to take my mask off before realizing who I was. I felt a flicker of annoyance—but then I remembered: this is a potential fan. I must always be kind. Without fans, I wouldn’t be relevant.
Being a celebrity now requires more than performing on a stage. It means influencing, setting an example. I’m kind—but I do get an attitude. I don’t like mean people, and sometimes I’m mean back. It’s not right, but it feels good in the moment.
When my bank account looks better, I want to take martial arts—weekly sparring to release the anger in my head. I carry resentment toward people who wronged me—stole from me, mocked me, underestimated me. Especially those women from my old job who laughed at me as an adult.
I’ll never forget when I excitedly shared a moment of joy—only to be mocked and laughed at. That place tried to break me, but it taught me a lesson: not everyone deserves access to my dreams. The only people I trust are my parents, my nephew, and Shervy.
I should tell Shervy I’m back in town. He’s probably sleeping. I should be too.
Father, forgive me for all my sins, known and unknown. Fight my battles for me. Surround me with good people. Protect me from evil. Prepare a table before my enemies so they know their tactics failed. Guide my path with light and joy.
Let me sleep well so my mind is clear for my test on Monday. Please let me pass flight attendant school. I want to make myself—and my parents—proud.
Sometimes I wonder why I’ve suffered so much, but I know my suffering is small compared to others. Remind me that I don’t need to escape my reality—I need to run to You.
Help me in every way. I love You.
Loading comments...