Lord, I know that we don’t talk all that often anymore.

February 4, 2013 § 1 Comment

Shadows in the late afternoon.

Shadows in the late afternoon. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Know I won’t be awaiting a postman I will not be glued to my phone. I’ll know a change has come, I know that God exists, when all the bombs stop exploding and all of our landmines are stripped.” Lord, I know we don’t talk – Kevin Devine. 

It’s starting to worry me. The half light memories of the life it feels like I’ve half lived. The gradual pull of what feels like a second personality. Pulling hard. Becoming regular again. Overly familiar. The fight between right and wrong isn’t a moral choice, it doesn’t feel like a choice anymore, it’s just which of turns up. It feels like I don’t choose the wolf that gets fed anymore. One just turns up full, showing it’s teeth. And I know, I know that sounds like a sell out. I know it sounds like an addicts excuse. But it’s the truth. When I’m feeling, that’s how I feel. Guilty for no reason. Anxious for no reason. Afraid for no reason. Went totally clean for a bit. Not touching anything. Not even tea. Didn’t work. Reverted to type. Same effects. I know what they say, we all have our crosses to bear, it would be selfish to assume mine is heavier. But sometimes honesty is unpleasant. Sometimes honesty is selfish. From where I’m stooped, the weight of this cross is breaking the back in my brain, it’s blocking out the sun. Positive mental attitude they say. I say things are easy to say. I don’t know where this ends. How long can I just go with it? How long can I just let it slide? What’s the alternative? Maybe I’m being childish. Maybe I’m just tiered. Maybe I’m ok. I ticked every happy box. Stay in school, go to college, get a degree, get a job, don’t get a criminal record, don’t die. Still, no happy. Actually, since we’re being unpleasantly honest, all that was easy, I just had to do it, then it was done. I’m not a hero, not that anyone pretends that I am. I am no example, I’m certain there’s no role model here. I get emails. Beautiful emails from people who remind me that I do this for reasons more than being selfindulgent. Emails that say I give them hope. Emails that say I made them feel normal for the first time in a long time. Emails that say I introduced them to music they now love. I cry. I remember my reasons. I remember I am fit for no higher calling. Thank you.


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§ One Response to Lord, I know that we don’t talk all that often anymore.

  • AguessT says:

    I wonder if shadows and scars distort who we are… (“Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on.” -> Henry Rollins)

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