I Feel… (a free-flowing prose)

Like I’m fighting a shadow, a shadow of a life that was never meant to be, an expectation of an ideal never meant to be realized. I’m tired of me, Lord. I don’t want this kind of existence in these spaces, in these places that are still so undefined, redefined by the time and the places, the circumstances that I’m facing and I can’t seem to get my head around. Sigh.

Why is it so hard? Why is it so difficult? Why does it feel like I’m banging my head against the same wall over and over and over, again and again and again? I don’t want to want, and yet that is so not what You ask of us. I want the absence of desire because I find that it takes my expectations higher and higher beyond the blue and I can’t control the way that I feel. I can’t control the things that I do. I am so done with this way of living that I almost don’t know what to do, but that is why I am talking to You, and You are the only one who can meet this gaping hole, meet this tattered soul who is hurting. Hurting… Hurting.

I don’t want to pretend to just be more than friends. I don’t want to devise another plan, another opportunity by which “one” can stop and take notice. I am tired of feeling confined, drawn between spaces of line that don’t allow me to be, just BE all that I am supposed to be. I don’t want to cower in fear worrying that what I say may not be what you hear and that I will upset the savage beast again and it will only end in my hidden tears, unacknowledged and untolerated for the sake of it “always being like this” and left to flow without concern.

I feel alone, and yet You’re near. I feel misunderstood and silenced and quieted, although, inside my heart wants to scream. Enough, my soul cries! Enough of these terrible lies that assault and assuage my very depths and have kept me from seeing clearly, truly, freely, only… If only.

I do not want to think this deeply anymore. Make me shallow or an incredible bore; just don’t let me think anymore, new depths to explore, new ways to pour and pour over the same drama, the same saga, the same and more of the same. I want this cycle to end so that I might find myself freed of this self-made prison and into the arms of perfect Liberty on this Earth… as only Your Holy Spirit can give birth… to all that is within and all that remains incomplete.

Oh Father, won’t You make this imperfect verse complete?

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