God, I miss you.
The relief of my conscience is delightful but has been replaced with the burden of your absence.
This will heal, I am told. I have read. I hold out hope.
And, according to Jehovah, it is for the best. If I can’t trust him who can I trust? I just wish we could go forward to the good part. The part where this isn’t awful and a tedious experience requiring me to question every moment of every hour of every day.
I don’t want to feel like a horrible person. I want back my feeling of the misunderstood and overlooked artist and hero of sacrifice. Not the man who pulled back the curtain on his reality and is now questioning the very fabric of his existence.
I suppose that is the nature of reality: it is binary. All one way or all the other.
I’m just so tired of this test.
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Thank you for coming here and walking through the garden of my mind. No day is as brilliant in its moment as it is gilded in memory. Embrace your experience and relish gorgeous recollection.
Into every life a little light will shine. Thank you for being my luminance in whatever capacity you may. Shine on, you brilliant souls!
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