I
want to let go.
want to let go.
There
are no fluffy words or poetic sentiments I can muster tonight. My
thoughts are halted by the regime of exhaustion and apathy. I want
to speak, but the air devours my words before they may be heard.
are no fluffy words or poetic sentiments I can muster tonight. My
thoughts are halted by the regime of exhaustion and apathy. I want
to speak, but the air devours my words before they may be heard.
I
have not felt this alone in many dark moons. Helpless. Hopeless.
have not felt this alone in many dark moons. Helpless. Hopeless.
I
want to let go.
want to let go.
I’ve
reached the place where the existential self is at peace. There
exists no more fighting. We’ve laid down our swords and our hopes at
the same time.
reached the place where the existential self is at peace. There
exists no more fighting. We’ve laid down our swords and our hopes at
the same time.
I
do not believe in history. It is deceiving. It’s promises can not
be trusted. A new reality is often created than can not be predicted
with history. We are in such a place. History holds
no more promise than the hollow words of encouragement.
do not believe in history. It is deceiving. It’s promises can not
be trusted. A new reality is often created than can not be predicted
with history. We are in such a place. History holds
no more promise than the hollow words of encouragement.
I
want to let go.
want to let go.
I’m
sinking deeply. Pulled down under the undertow. I’ve done it to
myself. I can not go back. It’s better this way.
sinking deeply. Pulled down under the undertow. I’ve done it to
myself. I can not go back. It’s better this way.
I’m
letting go.
letting go.
Words of encouragement may seem hollow at times, but I hope you will forgive me for trying…
I don't know if you believe in God at all — I myself refuse to go to a church, but I read the Bible and what you have been describing lately sounds eerily similar to a time I walked through, not all that long ago. A time of utter despair, total heaviness. The world was cold, fruitless, void. I tried everything, but nothing seemed to help.
Except one tiny thing.
I kept repeating this one little half-verse in my head:
"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick."
(i.e., waiting toooooo long for something hoped for creates its own new pain
— I had to look it up, but it is Proverbs 13:12)
To me, it means that someone out there, somewhere – whoever wrote that – SEES that all these years my heart has gone without warmth and beauty, and my hope is finally leaving me, and it is making me SICK. Sick worse than the previous sorrows. Sick enough that just having someone KNOW that you are sick — and understanding the reason — is enough to tether hope to me, at least by one tiny thread…