I stopped writing because I made too much noise. I stopped because it was all about me, and nobody truly cares about that. Except, that's not really a fair assessment. I assume that nobody does. It's "safe" to assume that I belong in the lowest echelons of life. Except, it really isn't. I am just as responsible for my words and my actions. I hold just as much importance to some folk rather or not I think myself something great or something terrible. What I think of me is really not important to someone else. It's what they think that's important. Most people are indifferent, which is to be expected. Some think I'm actually a good guy. A few even term me nice things like "awesome" and "amazing."
I don't understand this. And yet I'm gripped with some kind of relentless love that dares not let go. I have so much of my time building walls to protect myself from other people, from pain and needless drama, only to have the love of others seep through and show me just what kind of foolish endeavor this massive fortress is.
And the thing is, it's not even most someone can love me. I purposely tried to get away from the love of others, and then wonder why I never feel anything. What an idiot! Now the slightest bit of love sends me into some kind of rapturous euphoria because I don't know what it is anymore. And I can't pull away, because it's reciprocal. I love them. I love them all. And yet, how can I do something that I don't understand? Questions! Questions everywhere! Still! I have been a fool to run, and now I cannot anymore. It bothers me to care about other people. Not that I've never done it before, but because it's alien for me to admit the truth of my feelings. I ran and tried to be away from as many people as I could. I ran from their love. And I ran from Love itself.
It's humiliating to despair and languish because I could not find God anymore, only for the sun to break through the clouds and bask me in warmth despite the freezing temperatures outside, as if God said, "I am here, you fool. And I love you."
A lot has been pouring through my mind these last couple of weeks. I spent several years trying to hide. In doing so, I let my mind rot. I've lost many of my mathematical skills. I lost a lot of my ability to reason. I read something I wrote back in 2002, trying to reason out something of my faith. It was halfway intelligent. Yet, I don't know that I could construct that argument anymore. I let my relationships falter. I don't have good relations with my family, though there's a lot of past tied to that. Despite my family's efforts, I remain something of a hermit. I've become like my father was. I was blind to many opportunities to begin and participate in relationships. I threw away relationships with perfectly good and amazing women because I could not bring myself to be responsible for my thoughts, feelings, and actions, placing undue pressure on them to be two people. I've worried the last ten years or so away. My health is faltering because I cannot be bothered with the work to take care of myself.
Oh, and spiritual life? I cannot count the times I've spat in God's face, rejected him, and openly disobeyed his commandments. I have been self-righteous in a great many things, but over the years, I have become every single last one of the things I deemed myself too holy to ever fall prey to. I have been an adulterer. I have given myself to false gods. I have been the legalistic fundamentalist who could not see his neighbors past his own nose. I have hated people. I have become apathetic. I have been too lazy to do anything for the church. I have...a lot of sins. So much that I think I should never, ever be forgiven.
And yet, for God to display his love for me in many ways, big and small...what a fool I have been. My life is more or less comfortable. I always have food to eat. I always have something to be entertained with at the end of the day. I was given a car, and yet if that breaks down, I can still call upon others for help when I need it. I have a job when many do not. I have been given so many friends. For someone who actively tried not to be with people, I somehow ended up with more friends than some extroverts have.
And, the most important thing, despite everything I've done to spite God and His Name, He forgave me! The friends I hang around with most, they see me in all kinds of emotional states and outbursts...and they still love me. I can only assume that they forgive me on some level in hopes that I will one day see myself through this shit and become a better person. God has forgiven me, even of those sins which I thought were too terrible to be unpardonable. What have I missed? What have I lost in all my foolishness?
The only thing I've lost was time. Everything else is still here. Some of it mostly new, even unused.
Dear God, what a fool I have been.
I write all this knowing that many of my closest friends are leaving the country. This will probably be pried from me eventually, but maybe in a last-ditch effort to hang on to old foolishness, I can hope that I never need reveal these thoughts to them. But, the whole point of writing this down is so that they would, because I feel that I need to become more honest with myself, and it has to be through others that I can do so. Otherwise, how will I grow? Again, I am a fool who lacks understanding.
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