Devastation.
They sound like the immature ramblings of a 14 year old girl whose boyfriend dumped them and they think their life is over. They seem blown out of proportion and dramatized beyond the actual scope of the problems.
How do I explain the feelings in my heart without going overboard and becoming dramatic? I, myself, may be of a fairly mature state of mind throughout regular days and some extraordinary days, but my heart is incredibly dramatic about some subjects. To be sure, everyone has space to mature and I especially could use some control over my emotions. My wild heart has been hurt beyond what I thought was capable and reels in pain though time has put some distance. Should I now be surprised that the maturity for which I have been praised for all my life starts to wear thin under the crushing blow of "devastation"? What is Devastation? If not this, what is heartbreak and life changing events? I know not what future brings, save for more of the former. History's repetitions know that I will come out eventually. Will it be too late?
Powerless.
Another word blown out of proportion. What other word can you use to describe the feeling of the only power being that of the gun in your hand while you sleep? How do you blow something out of proportion that feels so drastic? It is all perspective. I am not suicidal, clearly. Had I been truly suicidal, I would have quietly laid out the plastic wrap and blew my head off without a peep. The cry for help suggests a willingness not to do the deed. How then do I explain the hope in my heart for which I have no words? I try not to tell anyone, so as not to dilute the seriousness of the situation, but any discerning eye can see a will to live. Finger on the trigger not pulled. So I ask myself what the purpose for all of it is. A man with no power over the woman he loves, his own emotions, or his life in general feels that something must be done. A man of action sees the only effective, immediate action is self-termination. The inner wise-man laughs at the childishness. Nothing but permanent separation from God is that hopeless. What is this promise he leaves as a tiny morsel in my mouth? A promise of returning to warm my heart, no doubt, but just a taste. Not a time or a place or a situation.
Godless.
The desert is long, hot, and thirsty. I cannot make it without him, I call for him, he does not come. He thinks my strength can carry on. He aims to break me, I tell him I am broken, and he persists. Is his aim really to break me? He loves me surely and I am saved, I have no doubt, but what is this desert? His son went through a similar desert and was tempted by the devil several times. I am as well, many times over. Many times over I fail. Does he wait for success? While striving to be more like him, surely we cannot be held to the standard of our Lord? I not-so-quietly await his return. Like a child left in time-out, I feel threatened by the silence.
Loveless.
Where does her ambition lie? Surely her heart has been taken and turned cold towards me. Where does her faith in me begin and end? Of what meaning was the dedications poured out over one-another over years? Surely this is the only reason she talks to me still. She feels bad for breaking her promises. Or could it really be love? Love knows no boundaries, but there are boundaries in this love. Love? What is it? I have been told it is God and God it. God is present, but love cold. Reason? Reason cannot explain and analysis cannot determine what it is that led me to this place. Here, I talk to myself fully expecting her to read, however bored, my ramblings. I cannot imagine that such heart-felt divulgence is slanted. Not knowing where I stand from minute to minute, how can I tell if I am being real, or merely producing propaganda that she will dismiss as so much trash? It certainly feels genuine. Very much so. The propaganda can be easily spotted for having no equivocal nature. Too strong and sure of self is the lie that comes forth. This is truthful because this is nonsense.
Nonsense.
What really matters? Surely God. Surely Love. These life accomplishments to be gathered like chits? Doubtful they have relevance in the life after. They are so revered. She progresses much easier than I. She blossoms while I whither. She blossoms because I whither? I pray not. I love her so. Will she come back? The heavens, to me suggest an enigmatic answer. My heart suggests yes, my mind, no. The problem comes when I look at which of my organs is more reliable. My mind wins this bout without issue. Who to trust when God does not speak and self revels in self-pity? No-one? Kimber surely can be trusted, but her ways betray me. Women leave without pause, friends disappear without apology, material possessions fail without variance. God alone is to be trusted. God speaks not to me in the desert, where I need him most.
Weakness.
Why do I weep as I do now? Surely not hopelessness. I have a light that cannot be described. What, then, shapes my steps? The enemy must have some control over me that God tries to break in the desert. Perhaps the reason for his leading me here. How, then, do I break it without his help? The desert is his help. The desert makes me weak, but now I must fight.
War drums.
I beat, ceaselessly the war drums in my heart calling upon all of my strength, emotion, maturity, sensibilities, love, God, and power watching them break upon my enemy like water on the bow of a ship. He comes for me. I don my armor and await him. The time draws nigh. The silence will be broken soon. The night shattered by flares and battle cries. The war in my soul rages on. No doubt this is the reason for my turmoil and devastation.
Revelation.
This must be it. The reason for ramblings. All faculties fully employed in a raging battle for my soul. Here and now I have no doubts. I will conquer this foe with the help of all the tools my Savior gives me and become a fortress for his kingdom.
Tests.
Now I retire to my daily duties having learned a lesson. I leave to converse with evil men. The uniform I wear separates me only on this earth. My brothers fight too. They think they are alone. I must bring them the knowledge of the battle within.
Or is this, too all nonsense and meaningless rhretoric from a person lost in the desert and once again immature ramblings? HOW DO I KNOW WHAT IS REAL WHEN I GET NO ANSWERS?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!
