I'm sorry, you were saying?

...ya know, every thought that flits through dies before it can be caught. It gets piledriven by the one behind it. Can't keep up. Read comments on the Glenn Beck rally and saw red, wanted to charge out with some ringing manifesto of defiance in the face of hate and division. Watched Shadowlands with Lisa and wanted to capture something about the importance of living and not hiding from pain, how nothing at all in this life matters if it's not centered in Christ and radiating His love outward from ourselves. Wanted to, to, to...oh well.
I do believe that I just may have followed the mirage of a transformed heart into a desert that I will probably not see the other side of. Try though I may, I am not going to change anything. All the drive and passion I ever had, every heart's cry *retch*, every yearning that threatens to explode my ribcage, is birdshot against a battleship. The truth doesn't need my telling it to still be true. Which is good, because my grasp on it is tenuous at best. God will just have to be God without my help. I'm sure He's up to it. And He could not be blamed for being happy to have me out of the way.
Nothing. Nothing at all. It was fun trying to matter, but we all gotta grow up.
It still hurts. Shut the hell up. It hurts. Your point? It hurts.
I hope that not one single person ever takes anything like this to their own heart. Don't ever listen to me.

showtime

This is one of those times when I can watch myself burn without a care in the world. No anger, no depression, no overblown sense of betrayal. Just looking through a warped lens and losing my grip on what straight looks like. And not having the energy to figure it out.
Where did I ever come up with a sense of purpose or right? What the hell do I know? Who's counting on me to get them through anything? Help as good as any I can offer is falling from the trees. I need more than damn near anyone. These pathetic words are the most profound thing I've done in weeks.
I'm good at doing what I'm told if the teller has a right to tell. Not so much if they're just being a prick. Living? Different story. Forging ahead, dreaming (gag), bringing inspiration to light and form, all that's so lost to me I have trouble believing I ever had it. I exist. So does a mushroom.
I'm not even feeling much of anything about it at the moment. Fuck feelings. They change and morph and bait and switch and tell me nothing except how far off I am from any mark that ever meant anything good. Process them. Why?
I feel (there's that goddamn word again) very much like leftover matter from a failed experiment. Oh well.
But I do indeed miss knowing that I mattered, even if what I knew was false. If truth wants to destroy me, let's be done with it already. Stationary target right here. Light me up.

lighten up

Life unwinds like a cheap sweater
but since I gave up hope I feel a lot better
and the truth gets blurred like a wet letter
but since I gave up hope I feel a lot better - Steve Taylor

Hope is a lot of weight, and one wonders if it's worth carrying. This tiny world I inhabit cannot possibly be worth all this struggle, yet a larger one would choke me without a sound. I think it should.

I just wanna know--am I pulling people closer?
I just wanna be pulling them to You
I just wanna stay angry at the evil
I just wanna be hungry for the true - Steve Taylor

Hungry - check. Terrified of the hunger's object, but hungry. Angry - check. Impotent and aimless, but angry. So much for the pulling.

The kid never learns. Ever. Everyone else is so much better. Really. Too bad the admiration hurts like it does, otherwise it's be a wonderful distraction from character bankruptcy.

If He loves this thing, then He can have it.

*click*