this hurts like f*ck.
I am being crushed under something I never thought I could have too much of. love.
some things really are so good that there is no "too much", except that my capacity for them is pitiful.
God, do You understand what it means to be so needy that nothing ever assuages the ache for more than a moment, and those moments so rare and precious rocket through Your soul like emotional heroin? did You have friends here on earth who filled you with this yearning, this terror that the love You have for them will never find its mark but choke the life from you because it's so huge and inexpressible that it turns Your spine to water?
why is it so natural to believe that they don't understand, don't care (they don't have to), don't need anything they will ever find in me? why the need to be needed? I wouldn't wish this on anyone, least of all them. they have done nothing to make these doubts realistic, it's my fault, not theirs.
why can't I make them see, or if they already do, why can't I know that?
the glory of You they reflect used to inspire and revive me, now it makes me want to flee and hide my poverty of life and mind and vision.
when will I ever learn? why do I still feel alone and unseen?
I want to honour what they have invested in me, because it comes from You.
God I believe. help my unbelief.
it hurts it hurts it hurts. there is no pretense to strength or might or power left. I am undone. I've heard this is a good place to be. wish it was easier to agree.
how will I ever offer this love to someone who needs it if I can't grasp it for myself?
About Me
- Bootsaint
- New London, Connecticut, United States
- ugly and loved, armed and polite, spiritual and realistic, angry and hopeful, a soft heart and a hard target, here before you, will be here when you're gone, always turning up for my true friends (there are better friends than me, but I've got most of them), under orders to love my enemies, but that doesn't make me their doormat. Still here? Thanks. Read on.
1 comment:
I know it sounds stupid, and I know it sounds shallow. Like I'm trying to play down the feeling you have. But I'm not.
This is what it feels like. Grace. Love. This is how it is. It isn't passive and flowery like we all try to make it seem. You know that. When people say that love hurts, they don't just mean when it ends. For truly, having to wake up in the middle of the night wondering how these divine beings still tolerate you hurts.
But, the great thing is that these people love you for you. Why is it so natural to believe? Because you're the artist. You're looking at all of the flaws in your piece. We see the whole of it. When it is your creation standing on display, you see every brush stroke that could be better, one face that could be brighter. We see the masterpiece.
This love you feel, that seems like it's saturating everything. That rains down from the sky of your heart so heavily that the raindrops hitting the ground sounds like a stampede. It's raining so hard that it seems like the water is coming from both the earth and the sky, and you're stuck in the middle. You don't feel like you express it, but you do. With every time you show up at my door with hot chocolate, we feel it. As the warmth bubbles up from my esophagus, it whispers it into my cells. Your fingertips weave it into my skin with every hug. It seems like you can't express it, and to some extent that's true, but we just kind of know it.
You'll have to trust us on that one, bucko.
Also, do you really think we understand this love? We aren't separate from you. It's not like we know this love inside and out. We don't fully understand it either, it just happens. Like every sunrise. We don't know why the earth decided to keep spinning, it just sort of does.
Post a Comment