Used

I feel used. I give so much of myself.  Then I feel used. I apparently can't figure out before I get hurt really bad that he isn't a good match for me. I'm a whore. I am used for money. I'm used for sex. I hold little value on earth.

So why does God love me?

I'm exactly what my dad said I would turn into. I'm exactly what my brother describes me. 

So why does God love me?

I have no purpose. I can't be a mother. It's good actually. I couldn't bear the thought of subjecting a child to the mess I am. There are enough children in this world who are hurting.

No one misses me because of who I am. They only miss what I had to offer. Once I have nothing else to give, I'm dropped and ignored.

I can't find a church who wants me. I can't find friends who want me. I can't really blame anyone.

So what's the point? 

My cats don't even want me. If there's someone else, they prefer them. 

I'm so very sad and lonely. Who cares about me?

I am holding on desparately to Jesus. Well, my idea of Him. I let Him down all the time. Everyday, in fact. I am grasping so tightly to the idea that He still loves me. He still finds value in me. I would have nothing left to live for if I didn't believe Him.