Dear God,
Please forgive me for being so upset last night. That feeling followed me into the morning, and I felt physically sick. My stomach is completely unsettled.
Today, I received a warning at school for not cross-checking my work. I had to sign paperwork acknowledging the mistake. Thankfully, it’s just a warning for now, but starting the next day, it will officially count. It was discouraging, but I’m trying to learn from it.
Despite that, I felt deeply supported. Last night, my colleagues came to check on me. My roommate helped me move. My coworkers truly felt my pain after housekeeping stole from me. And Jim—when I started shaking like a Chihuahua because it was freezing in the classroom—gave me his jacket. He let me wear it for a full ten hours. That kindness meant more than he probably knows. He’s really cool.
Someone commented on my journal entry with a tone that wasn’t very kind. During lunch, I showed my colleagues what I wrote and what the commenter said. Their reactions shocked me. They said things like: “It’s easy to be an internet gangster. She didn’t have to say it like that. She wasn’t trying to help you—she was trying to hurt you. She doesn’t know how hard it is out here. Don’t listen to her.”
Interestingly, I later discussed the same comment with my dad. I told him that I actually agreed with what the commenter said. Even though it wasn’t kind, it was very direct. Maybe I needed to hear it that way. Maybe she was defending You.
That led me to a realization: if this is how people react when I speak anonymously, what will happen when I speak openly—without hiding anything? When I release my music, what will people say? When I finally reach the levels I’m striving for, how will people treat me then?
I need to develop thicker skin. One single comment stayed with me the entire day. The truth is, that commenter doesn’t know what I’m truly experiencing. My colleagues were angry because, as they said, “She doesn’t know what we’re going through. We didn’t even find out our pay until they flew us in for training.” That’s what I have to remember: people are going to judge—no matter what. The outcome depends on how I handle it.
I’m learning that putting myself out there will always invite reactions. But I refuse to let that hinder me anymore. I’m choosing to let it roll off my back.
Honestly, I see everything You’re doing for me—clearly. You placed me with the perfect roommate. I truly love Alex. She’s generous, thoughtful, and even bought me fruit. She lets me control the temperature the way I like it. She has amazing taste in music. She’s a Christian. And it’s wild that she’s only 23—everyone thinks we’re the same age. I still haven’t revealed my age because I don’t want to be judged. I don’t want my age to change how people treat me.
I guess I still care what people think. If I’m being completely honest, I’m afraid of reliving the experience I had at a middle school I worked at before. Those people made my life miserable. They were cruel, hateful, and jealous of my dreams of being a singer and actress. Their resentment felt demonic at times.
I blamed myself for a long time, constantly wondering why they hated me so much. At the next school, I decided not to share anything about myself. I kept my passions and dreams hidden—and the difference was night and day. That school was wonderful. The students and teachers threw me a cupcake party. My assistant principal told me repeatedly how much she would miss me and even gave me a glowing recommendation, even though she didn’t want to see me leave.
Now it’s clicking: maybe some people online despise me too. Maybe they think I’m crazy for aiming so high. Maybe they think I’m a Jesus freak. But the real question is—why do I care so much?
One of my favorite TV characters is Samantha Jones from Sex and the City. She never cared what anyone thought of her. I believe the actress is just as confident in real life. I bet she knew the show wouldn’t survive without her.
It’s strange how much my life is changing. I’m now connected to a soon-to-be producer who’s about to earn his fifth Grammy—and he’s excited to work with me. I’m finally surrounded by people who can truly help my career, people who don’t see me as disposable.
This school is intense. I’m exhausted, and I have to wake up in five hours. I pray that I get proper rest. I need Your help—please help me pass, and one day, earn a perfect score on a test.
I love You.
Amen.
I fell asleep with the lamp still on. It was so bright, yet I didn’t even notice—I was that exhausted.
I pray for strength.
I pray for rest.
I pray that this class becomes easier.
I pray that I pass…Amen.
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