Part ways

How can you be true to yourself when you refuse to see yourself? When you can’t bear to go through each layer of scars that healed on their own, no thanks to you? When looking at yourself and all the density that obscures you feels like staring down the barrel of a gun? How can you say that you’re gonna do you when you yo-yo between a high that doesn’t belong to you and a low that won’t let go of you? How will you account for all the discord and jagged edges and putrid shame that you’re soaked in if your concept of self-love is to just do what lifts your mood? What of all those things that you desperately need to wade through, to walk away from into an uncertain horizon, to sit with the tension indefinitely, to be with yourself and suffer for the cause you were created for? How can you discover the cause you were created for if you’re preoccupied with playing musical chairs with the society you’re in? How can you understand the gravity of losing yourself when your worst fear is missing out?

Love doesn’t numb the senses, it envelopes them. Until you feel that feeling of helplessness, powerlessness, worthlessness, you won’t know what graces God would provide you. You won’t know a world beyond your helplessness. You won’t get to learn that you will be cared for and protected, even more so when you’re feeling low. The pain is a part of you that you’ve decided you can do without and that’s the biggest tragedy of your life.

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