What is my heart saying?

nothing I’m not already tired of hearing

 

Make something new

Build something unique

Start from the ground up, no stealing…

 

A hug can only help the healing process, not make it

 

Can I even do this?

Am I even capable of success?

My previous accomplishments taunt me,

With the apparent answer to that question.

Nah, that ain’t me Chief…

 

I hate this vessel

I’m disgusted at this life I lead

 

If it were anyone else, I would care so much

Because it’s me, I’m not too sure

 

I’m torn between self-anger and apathy,

And I know neither are the right answer.

 

What can I put my hope in?

Where can I go when I run out of strength?

(As if I have any to begin with)

Do I have the capacity for rest?

 

Alone in my car, the smoke of a joint fills the cabin

Where I once felt safest, now just as empty

as everywhere else.

 

It’s been so long, I can’t even remember how this all started.

I’m too weak

I’m too tired

 

I am more frustrated at myself for not having wants, than I want to

go find something to want.

 

Boy, are these cycles vicious.

It baffles me how stupid I can be sometimes

An air head, more dense than a brick

(Try and make sense of that one)

 

My mind, separate, in its little box.

I feel so strongly of the roots of the human condition,

Yet, I feel as a stranger in my own body.

 

A me I have long discarded

A me who has influence on the world around me

A me who is active in his own life

who does as he pleases

without fear,

without rejection,

without resentment,

who loves life, and everything in it.

 

that little me,

dead to myself.

 

Alive in Christ.

Please, just be myself…

it shouldn’t be so damn hard!

And so much of me is everything I despise.

 

What happened to me?

Where did I go?

What happened to the boy who wanted to walk through life,

putting smiles on other people’s faces.

 

It’s so scary, being called to put my heart in it.

It’s been dead for so long,

I thought it would never beat again…

 

My flesh waining between indulgence and depravity

My soul a dried old turd in the corner

 

Then the cornerstone of my prison came, and decided

that my soul arise. That this will go on no longer.

It’s strange, living with this thing.

I have only vague memories before we separated.

 

I remember a voice that day

 

“Are you sure this is what you want? You know full and well that that is not true.”

 

no. you're wrong. i am nothing. i need to go. i am ugly.

i must die. i love them. let me stay, to help them. just for a little while.

 

Here I sit, 21 years old.

I was 7 when I made that decision.

That conscious decision,

To be so furious at myself.

It defined my very being.

 

I have a new definition now. I couldn’t even dream of actually being a good man, or what being “better” would even look like. But He has declared me good, right with God, by no act of my own.

By no will of my own.

By no dream of my own.