upsetness.

Forever wasn't something i've always wanted
i felt so rooted here, alone, content, free to do what i wanted,
then my heart set in and took me over
the world was set before me, a rich canvas of colour and materials that overtook me
all i wanted was to feel free.
all i wanted was to feel redeemed.


I've always felt like I was blessed,
in a way that I've been put high up on a faraway cliff that wasn't hidden, but no one bothered to look at because they were too concerned with fumbling about their lives upon solid ground.
I look down upon the masses and observe.
I survey the people I know and love, or at least try to love.
I see peoples' pain and their struggles and apprehend their emotions, their motives, all the milling of their minds and the staggering of their souls. They press on, they try, they give up. Some never do. Some always do. Some see the sunlight awaiting them outside the pitchblack cave of hopelessness, some refuse to accept that there is a sun at all.
I mean not to remove myself from the pain that humans suffer.
I have dealt with such great heaviness of heart and near shattering of mind that it's a wonder my soul has not shattered somewhere along my lifespan.
I bear a heavy heart most days, though I like to keep it hidden.
But yet the pain of others around me, surrounding my being, my soul, all I can do is look around and give a solemn face to those who weep. I see through to their hearts and pick out the details of their sorrows. I understand it. I hold it in my hands and stare upwards, wondering what in God's name to do with it. I have the words in my mind but no utterance to give them.

What are we all to do now, then?
I seem to have the thought that I have been so set apart that my existence is almost cosmic, galactic, transcending most souls anywhere. I must force myself to believe this cannot be the case. It's too egotistical..

Sometimes when I hurt, I get a very strange feeling. My soul feels moved outside of its regular position, from when I am in great happiness, which is a great amount of the time, praise God. But when I am upset, so down on myself and the earth around me, there is a movement inside me that cannot fully be explained, can never fully be taught or fixed. I look to the skies and ask him, how I can get over the worthless object or person or abstract situation I am so heartbroken over. I know this is a problem I must get over, but at the same time, I need to stop and reflect about the state my soul is going through. In these times I feel there is no other better remedy (that is to say, to figure out exactly what mood I'm going through) than to put these feelings down in words. Words that flow from my soul. They probably don't make sense to anyone who tries to read them. The Lord understands, and I try to get something out of my inner groanings, but in hindsight I see these "memoirs" as great and powerful facts about my thoughts.

Getting back to the topic of hurting, I've always wondered what exactly was it, that got people most upset? What was the root of inner hurt? Certain aspects of our lives trigger conflict or joy. Could we ever even explain the war raging inside us on a day to day basis? Who is fighting against whom? What was the cause of this uproar? Are we ever at peace within ourselves? Is there anything that we can learn to accept and wholly move on from? Is there such a thing as self contentedness?

As I sit on this cliff in the whole of my mind, there is sun. There is sun everywhere, it is setting, but at the same time it will always be there, never leaving enough darkness to overpower the atmosphere. There is a wind. The wind is the most serene, calming, sweet and flowing breeze that has ever graced the human visage. The sea is immense and beautiful, but it does not inspire any fear from the onlooker. The colours above in the sky are yellow and pink and orange and blue, all mixed together so beautifully that it is too perfect to describe. The presence of God is so thick and tangible, you could wrap your arms around him anywhere. Looking out is the earth, the people, with their lives hurt and broken, as they stumble around, vision blurred by an outpouring of tears and makeup and hatred and desperation. We stumble. Falter. Curse. Spit at the wind. We hobble around, trying to make it by everyday. We scream at the skies and beg for answers, demanding to know where we went wrong, commanding Him to believe none of it is our fault, it was his, or hers, or theirs. But when we begin to feel the love seep back into our souls, a thick and healing serum to our scars and holes, spreading its restorative power back to our very being, there it gives us sustenance to continue on. We press on. We perservere, we seek the end, we run the race, we do it for the ones we love, we do it for ourselves, we do it for the one who loves us more than anyone could ever even fathom.

I am not apart from these feelings of feeling like a scum-crawling wretch from my head to my feet. I know, cause my feet have the scars to show. But I observe, and I understand.

Hope prevails. Love heals. Let the outpouring of the most pain you have ever felt in your life come out, scream it, cry your eyes out. It does heal. I know. I have never felt more alive than before I felt so close to death.