Step...step...step...step...step...
Bam!
Another hit is another reminder. Reminding me of how many times that I have made a mistake. Of how many times that the heat comes back to me for it. And, how many nights I spend dwelling on them. Trying to fix them whether they can be fixed or not. I rise up from the floor, wiping the dirt and soot from my clothes. I apologize to the person I bumped into. I help them regather the pieces that are not broken to bits. She says that she forgives me, but her disappointment is evident. I apologize again, feeling the stares around me burn on my neck as I try to carry on with my day.
Returning to the house, I hear the glass shatter. I rush to help clean it up, and then I wonder, does it really matter? One thing comes after another as if my hands are empty. As if I never lend them. As if they are solely meant for myself. By the time th day ends, I cry while laying in bed. Knowing that I have to do this again. Failing somehow like I am a habitual trend.
The kind of trend that is viral for all of the wrong reasons. The habit you so badly effort to stop, but all of your energy towards it amounts to nothing. I cry...I cry...I cry...I cry. Desperately wanting it all to end. And when I am awakened up the next day, all I wonder is why.
The first why has no answer. The second is relatively the same. I give up on sitting still and waiting. Instead, I sit still and pray. I pray. I yell. I vent. I cry again. A pattern that, for once, is without shame. I don't verbally hear anything back, but at least I know that He knows that this is not a game. Not in general. Not to me. My pain is out in the open for only Him to see. See with grace. With mercy. With understanding. With love. For the Lord is not just our Creator. He is our Heavenly Father who watches from above.
And then, the thoughts come. No dawning. No epiphany. No realization. I sit there with a reminder strictly floating in my head. Reminding me of the path ahead. We are not promised an easy, earthly life. Trials can cut worse than a knife. We are, in fact, never meant to be alone. Not now. Not when we go back Home. Sitting on my comfy bed. Blessed, yet struggling over what has and has not been said. The sins I will overcome shall have a day. Today may or may not be that way. That will come. That will come. For I am not a walking crime. Right now, it is just not my time.