My thoughts vacillate.
I am adrift in a sea of numbness as the world spins around me, to at other times possessing feelings of being broken beyond repair. Somehow I thought there would be more. The lie creeps into my head that I should be more, despite the repeated counting of my many blessings.
What currents have brought me here, to this place of desolation and formlessness?
Was it heartache from the first time I saw my own reflection? Or was it written before my birth that I would be so?
What manner of creature feels these things, much less expresses such longings back to its Creator? Held captive in a prison of my own design, shackled by expectations planted long ago, by parties indifferent to my well-being, I am left wondering.
My solace remains.
I strongly suspect that my own imperfections make me the perfect tool for my purpose in this life. Being set adrift to contemplate my existence is every bit what should be.
I am a buoy at sea offering a point of reference to those still ashore. And while the waves push me to and fro, I know there is a tether tied unto me, which will not yield when called upon. This is my faith, and I shall live and die by it, be I on the waters or dry land. If you will step out unto the water to share this experience of uncertainty with me, you will get wet, there’s no denying that. But know too that your fear anchors you to a lone spot of land, while faith sets you free upon the sea of possibilities. If you will hold my hand, I will hold yours and together we will experience the highs and lows of each passing wave. We shall be what we were meant to be, imperfect creatures bound by a perfect love.
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