Monologue

Normally, when i have an understanding, I cling to it; it makes me feel better.
And lately, every epiphane and revelation feels like it’s closing in around me, like it’s bearing down on me, like the air has all become water and I’m growing gills too slowly.
The things I want…it would be worse if I had them. I think about suicide but i know that it would make everything eternally worse. I think about doing drugs, but I know my body is God’s. I see my sin for what it is. And there is agony in still wanting it though I know it would kill me.
I see how lies encage now. But I still feel trapped; it’s like my eyes are open but I cannot see.
I can’t hold onto anything but God anymore. I see it. But it’s like I don’t yet have hands to hold onto Him…So i’m waiting for them to grow and looking at everything else, because everything else has signs and voices that tell me I can hold them with my feet or my mouth or my stomach. And yet they are lying to me. Because I have stepped there before; I have tasted that before; I have swallowed that before. And it cut. And I bled.
I have seen.
I know what the truth is.
And the truth is not yet something I can stomach.
So I wander around. There is no where for the daughter of man to lay her head.
There is no place for me to rest.
I am a girl acquainted with sorrow and affliction.
It is my heart that wars against me from the inside.
I am a sculpture looking to it’s creator with sewn up eyes, asking for hands, asking for the thread to be removed.
I am drowning in my own desires.
If I were to have every want satisfied, I would be consumed by them. If I were to follow every craving, I would only feel more like I do now than I do now.
I am hedged in. I have to believe that my darkness is familiar to the one who holds light for me.