save me from myself.

I feel like all I am is one
huge

mass

of regret.

A coil of ropes, impossible to untangle. That's what I am.

I've said so many wrong things. So many careless things. How many times have I blurted out a harsh comment and seen the pain flicker across someone's face? And I try to pretend that I didn't notice. I try to pretend it didn't happen.

For, if I slowed enough,
I would feel sick. Wholly disgusted. I would feel how dirty I am and the bile would rise in my throat.

And I'm always too scared to apologize.

That is the worst kind of coward.
Someone too scared to speak up and admit they were wrong.

But that's me. A coward.

I never stop to think of what I'm doing.

I am recklessly extravagant in my choice of words, my way of living, my
hurry
hurry
hurry
to get by without stopping to feel the extent of the shame buried within me.

I am the worst friend.

The worst.

Sometimes, I hear myself talking and I want to silence that fool I hear speaking. That person's a selfish pig. She doesn't even listen to other people. She goes on and on, stifling others, complaining, scowling, sulking, sitting stubbornly.

She's a coward in denial of who she really is.

Still, this I know:

There's still a small, intense, throbbing part of me

begging

to be saved. 

My Monster

Feeling restless. 

I can’t stand this wandering feeling pulsing in my heart, writhing in my mind, squirming in my being. It’s a dissatisfied restlessness. Sometimes it comes, like an itch, and it’s uncomfortable, hard to ignore, difficult to ease.

And it feels wrong.

It derails me. And I can sense the sinfulness within it. If let loose, it would turn to anger, to swearing, to spitting arguments, to words that tear like a silver knife.

I sense its power. It’s a sleeping beast of my flesh. Sometimes the desire to wake it up comes in the heat of a moment. I could just shake it a little. It would greet me with green, thirsty eyes. I could let it be free for a couple minutes. It would feel so relieving to set it free to do its damage.

But if I unbind it,

the harm it wreaks will be worse than I can imagine.

And only regret will follow.

Parts of me are so tempted, hungry, desirous because I seek

how good it could feel.

A moment like biting into sweet berries on a heated day.

In the end, though, it’s a poison. And that satisfaction is fleeting.

The berries turn bitter, kill the Spirit within.

So I’m begging for this offer, temptation, beast to be taken away.

Kill it before I hand it the reins.

Or, at least,

Lord,

give me to strength to battle it until the day it will be silenced forevermore.

Why I'm never satisfied at the end of the day

My ability to turn whatever I'm dished out into a miserable experience surfaces at many days' ends. I choose that misery. No matter how fine a day was.

I know I have an easy, cushioned life.

And I know that my heart chooses this joylessness. It's this human nature thing. Maybe you've heard of it.

We've been reading The Republic at school, rolling the ideas of justice and motives around in our minds time and time again. And it always boils back down to this flesh issue. Our ability to distort and stain and want more than we have. Endlessly. This ability to be unhappy in every season of our lives. Whether it's cloudy or sunny. To never be satisfied.

To drink from the shallow places and never dive in with all of us.

Skimming the surface. Getting by. But feeding this empty by placing ourselves in place of the Son. Making ourselves the one that our world revolves 'round.

A day is marked by our ability to keep thinking about ourselves. 


And whether a day is good or bad, whether life is like sitting on a cloud or drowning in the sea-

we aren't happy.

I come home, at a day's end, and I am still thirsty internally.

It's this choosing of myself that fails me. Every time.
It is me drinking from the
shallow place
that will never hold enough for me when the deepest, coolest waters are just around the bend. I've just got take the few steps over there. It's available; I've just got to lean down and drink immersed. Then my soul will be satisfied. If I choose to have faith.