this dark shadow

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i don’t want to feel anything. sometimes i don’t. i walk through my days hollow and numb, in a shadowy daze. other times, i feel everything, every minute detail: the prickle of the wind, the sting of rejection, the dust of these bones aching to return to the dirt from which they sprung. i crumple.

i feel dizzy all the time, but i can never throw up.

today is the day i would’ve left on a plane for Shanghai. and it hurts a little, in a far-off kind of way. im feel lost right now. my dad thought i was going to be on that plane. it was what he was working towards, before he died. but it isn’t right to go now, i know that. i don’t want to be on that plane, but i’m terrified of staying behind because i can’t see anything here yet, and now i don’t have him to talk to about it anymore. i’m with my family, i need to be here, i need them; but I feel so useless, worthless, directionless, alone… (lies. all lies.)

these lies and sins that i had been working towards overcoming have come back with a vengeance, and i just don’t have the energy, or even the desire, really, to fight against them right now.

i lack community. i find it hard to go to church. i can’t relate, i can’t drop my guard, i can’t speak.

the sense of purpose and excitement about the future that i had finally found after two years of seeking has escaped me. i’m so tired of this search for meaning.

i wrote this in my journal:
God, why do we feel like we need to charge every second with meaning?
YOU are our meaning.
Let us charge every second, live every second, with You.

“This is a gift,” I wrote.

“Child, this time, your family, eating dinners, talking about stories, running through sprinklers, resting on couches, creating worlds…
You don’t have to ask, ‘Why?’
It just is. Life. My gift to my children, out of the overflow of My great love.
I love you, child,” He breathed into me. “Live.”

“And you can do that anywhere,” He added, “Even right where you are, in the midst of emptiness and vast open land, wading through uncertainties and grief, straining to see under this dark shadow… Live, child. Live with Me.”
I am here.

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8 thoughts on “this dark shadow

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