I've lived a very simple life. Wake up. Go to my job. Come home. Sleep. Repeat. Simple, yet I detested it. Now, I was never one for the fancy rich life. All I wanted in life was making an impact on others and loving what I do. It was a very small and simple thing to want. But no, life doesn't work that way.
Life makes you work hard for every second that you live. And I hate it.
"Jenna! Open up!" the landlord yelled.
I swung open the door to find the staunch small four foot woman standing with a cart full of cleaning supplies.
She was the landlord, maid, and everything at my small cozy apartment.
She also hated everything.
I could see it in her eyes that she didn't mean to be so rude. But it was impossible not to hate her.
"Hello, Miss.Martin," I clenched my jaw at the sight of her angry face.
Journal, what would you say if I told you that I won a million dollars that day. If I told you that her angry face morphed into an incredibly beautiful happy one. If I told you life gave me exactly what I needed, and today, I was sitting with a bunch of African souls around a campfire chewing on food that was eaten by kings and queens.
Well, that's definitely not what happened to me.
"You're being kicked out," she said to me without a care. She then marched into my apartment and took my key on the counter.
"Be out by sundown." she slammed the door in my face and left.
Now, this is the fun part. I had lost everything at this point. No shelter. No money. No parents. No love. No dreams. Nothing.
I didn't even have the courage to volunteer at the local food shelter, like I usually did. Heck, I needed to go there to eat some food, not to serve some food.
What I did next, journal, was the stupidest worst thing I had ever done in my life.
I stole a knife from the apartment before I left, just in case I needed it. For special reasons.
I plunged it into my stomach.
If God willed for me to die now, I shall die. If he wants me to live, if he wants to give me a sign that someday, I will have that dream of mine come true. And someday I'll be sitting around the campfire with some African souls, singing songs about happiness, dreams and life.
If he allows it, I will live.
And I did live, Journal. I lived a happy life full of campfires and travelling and singing and eating and dancing and loving.
I lived because God rejected me.
And I understood that even if God didn't reject me, it wouldn't matter.
Because, although rejection hurts, it could lead to something much more.