History repeats itself

I wrote this 3 years ago. I feel like I wrote it today. Only today I can't even say dear God. Today I can say... Dear something that I know is something but I don't know what:

Dear God,

It's hard to believe you are here when I can never see you or hear you. Sometimes I feel like you may be a lie. I love talking about you, hearing about you, but it seems like the picture is complete except you, I can't know you sometimes. I know I wouldn't be talking to you if i didn't think you were real, and my faith in you is no less because of all this.


The truth is that my yearning for you is so strong sometimes that I simply wish I could die right away to be close to you. I wish I could reach out to you and really touch you, just a little bit... I think that would make me much a better person.


I gave you, and continue giving you my entire life, because I know you know what to do with it better than I could ever know.


But I feel like I fail you, even when you say you love me in spite of all my mistakes. I feel I'm not worthy even if you say I am. I walk blindly towards you, but it's cold and dark, and I want to fall down and stop.


I worship you, it's my only true delight. I would shout my love to you. I yearn you so much.


Let me lie at your feet and rest. Let me cry on and on, let me fold my body so I can be so small, like a baby in your hand.


My breast wants to breathe deeply and sink into your peace, erase my mind, fill it with your colors.


I want to dance with creation, around you, for you.


Daily, every moment, I grab on to something. Your hand is what I need, to lift me.


Why do I cry when I think of you? Why do I want to hide my face?


I can almost reach you and suddenly I lose you, I fear you and run from you. I'm broken down.


Father, father, father... Call me your child.


There is a dark hole in my chest, I sink down into myself, I don't want to scream for help, not even to get pulled out. I want to cry, I want to hide.


People can't heal me. I can't heal myself, my hope is almost gone. But I remember You. You have the power, oven over the dark hole in my chest.


I'm weak in myself, I'm sad, I'm lonely. Not for people, not for conversations. I'm lonely in my dark hole. Blow your warm breath on my face.


I plead for your presence, in my life, in the world. I yearn for life and eagerness, for peace and change.


I don't want to move. Or talk. Or think. Only sorrows come to my mind. I feel so ungrateful of all you've given me.


I want to be away, someplace where nobody knows me, I want to be lost. I want to find you all over again.

Lost

I'm at this point again, where I am bitter, angry, sad, hurt and frustrated. All the circumstances around me make me feel trapped. The thing is that I'm not sure if it's the circumstances problem or if it's my own problem.

If I could slip away and forget everything I probably would feel the same.

I hate having that secret wish of slipping away. My day dream is slipping away. To someplace unknown, where money doesn't matter, where physical things don't matter. It really sounds like someone that would be suicidal. Obviously I'm not, not even close, but sometimes I think it would be nice to be able to disconnect from this tiring world and go away to someplace where I actually have energy to move and look beyond my own limited circumstances.

Now that I've gotten to a certain place in my life, where the future seems kind of mapped out for me, is when I don't want to look up and see what's ahead. Oh the thought of babies... oh... oh... I just think tired, fat, messy, loud, draining. It makes me sad to think this way, why should I think this way? It makes me such a bad person.

I think of having a house (30 years, yes 30... years of monthly slavery) I think of having a car (8 years of drain), credit cards, and so on... the future is just made of bills, work and work.

Dreams are simply impossible, unless the dream is having a house and car. Having to be a slave to bills cancels dreams. I hate this life. Who wants this kind of meaningless routine in their future?

Babies are more money, and they grow up to hate you anyway. They grow up to not even want to answer your phone calls.

And work. Work is so stupid. Your young so they drill you for being inexperienced. Then you grow old and they reject you for being old fashioned. That's terribly sad. A lifetime of this is what lays ahead of me.

At least I have love... wait... love? That's another matter.