I am my secrets. They make me human. And yet, if I don’t trust you enough to share them, I will die of my shame. I need you to know my despair.
I need to tell you that today my heart is aching. I need you to believe that my masks are not all lies. You do know me, because I always tell you the truth. About my despondence — my anguish that comes too easily. I need to tell you about the internal corruption that sits with me night and day mocking me. And that I sit with my secrets wondering where are the friends to reassure me that everything will be okay?
Where is God to say that his Truth is all that I need?
Damn you, fear. Damn you pain that sits lodged inside me. I am choking on it right now. I thought for a minute I kicked this habit of despair.
I don’t doubt the fact of knowing you God. I am certain that you are there. Knowing you love even me. The tears I cannot cry, you wipe away. No misunderstanding there. But what I have come to understand is that some days — it makes no difference at all. I hurt anyway. Your song, God, offers no comfort today. The music at times so poignant. Nothing about that seems to matter, when I know you don’t care what I do with my life. Universal truths don’t matter, today, as I sit here thinking about what I now know. What I think I want. Sitting here smothered by the heavy weight of my self doubt. Begging you to help me understand what is happening .
Damn you, fear. Damn you pain that sits lodged inside me. I am choking on it right now. I thought I kicked this habit of despair.
Why do I have to feel my life is so important? Why can’t I surrender to simply living each day. Loving. Others. Quietly. Unknown to the world. Anonymous. Why can’t I just do it. Instead I sit here under the black cloud of the sinkhole and my need stares back at me in the mirror.
I. want. to. be. s.o.m.e.b.o.d.y. I want to be important. I know what I can do. I know my own potential.
But that is what I thought you took from me — God — in my Exodus years. I know you took my heartache and salvaged my soul. Gave me forgiveness and in the sojourn to hell and back you promised to take this hideous ingratitude, ambition and greed. The need for accolades and esteem. That part of me that I loathe, that wants so badly to earn my worth. That thinks I can prove something, anything. Those ghosts of ambition crowd out all that you have taught me through my affliction. Face it.
I want to be immortal. I always want more than you.
It should be enough that you love me. The knowledge that somehow you are rebuilding the frame of this crooked broken heart, that aches and thinks it is something, anything without you. My secrets remain. The fact that some days I don’t want to serve you. I want to be my own deliverance. I want to be God. As if I could.
Damn you, fear. Damn you pain that sits lodged inside me. I am choking on it right now.
This is me melting down.