I sit in the sun. The wind chimes tinkle in a breeze that sweeps around somewhere up above. I breathe in and stare at an empty yard, at wooden fences aged in the wind and rain. My thoughts swell and twist inside. A purposeless morass of frustration and weariness.
The stillness creaks.
I cannot tell you how to live right. I’ve never figured out happiness or sadness or productivity.
I cannot tell you how to find friends or hope.
Or peace.
I sit here and write out myself on the paper and try to figure out what it is that my hands are so eager to type.
“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”
I saw a girl, who said she was afraid. I heard a boy who said he was alone. And I wanted to rage. To sweep up a blazing inferno and stalk the darkness and burn it until it was all gone. To grasp fire and light the cold until everyone was warm.
Fear and loneliness stalk us. They try and isolate us from others. They pull us away into alleyways and crevices and eat us there in the dark where no one cares. And every step we take with them gives them more power.
“…not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another..”
Fight fight fight. As soon as you feel that touch, that doubt, that fucking vileness sweeping over you. That thing that tells you, that you aren’t precious. Fight it. Light it on fire burn it down. Hunt it to the ground. Stalk it with the light.
It’s like telling a drowning man to breathe. I know. But I have to say something. I struggle with this enemy regularly. I find myself curled up hearing lies pour into my ears from my doubts, my fears, my loneliness.
I read story after story of people who fight and lose. I will not. I refuse. NO NO NO NO.
I will stand against this enemy of mine. I will stand in the sunlight. I will reach for the sky and know I’m loved. I will not mock the love of those who love me by giving into the lies of the darkness.
I weep for those who’ve lost this fight. I beg those who are fighting now to fight on.
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Train of thought paused at station.
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Okay so when I wrote this the emotions were flowing and I was just pouring them on to the page. I truly do want to encourage people to fight fear, doubt, and depression. Writing things like the first part of this essay is how I fight that fight myself.
But once the emotion driving the story wore off I realized I didn’t have anything formative to say. I didn’t have any logic reason or carefully crafted thought. But I still wanted to say it.
It just seemed important to me.
Wordsremember 