Though You say You’re with me always, I feel left high and dry. You brought me so close to sweetness and then snatched it away and slammed the door on my heart. I can’t tell You how much that stings. And so I nurse my wounds, already sensing my default to close off from the world.
I am still so terribly alone. And there is nothing You seem fit to do to soothe the sting, the ache. I don’t know how to pray. Don’t know what to even pray for. I have absolutely nothing for You, and what a desolate wasteland that is.
Selfish is me. But I don’t know how else to be. How can I do it—live this life?
I keep trusting in what I cannot see and it is so hard.
You are God. I am not. But I fight for my grip on life, my heart, afraid to relinquish control.
Like I’ve ever been in control in the first place.
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