That woman sat at the alter; tears streaming down her face. She decided she wasn’t going to cry alone any more. So she prayed, hoping someone would come to her aid. “Dear God, she said sobbing. ” Are you listening to me; I have a confession”. She closed her eyes earnestly and buried her grieve in the eyes of one who is divine. She prayed.
“Dear, God; recently, i became more tolerant, less proud, more loving, more open and many other things I wasn’t. Some may call it maturity but, to me; it feels like preparation. For what? I don’t know but. I feel I will in a better place someday very soon.
I have spent most of my life more lonely than surrounded by people; more hurt than happy and more of thinking that nobody cared than feeling loved. In these instances, I was probably the deluded one because I had and still have people who want to be close to me but, I pushed and still push them away because I’m confused; I don’t know if it’s a genuine gesture or Is it falsity?
Pouring out my heart to admit how I feel has been difficult. I’m too proud to admit that the lady who has it all figured out is the shadow of her true nature, bottled up inside self-pity and full of weak points that weigh her down. I’m hurt and it affects how I relate with people. I’m a different person all together in different circumstances and situations.
The world is full of people who die with depression but, they can’t express themselves because you gossip behind their back.
I haven’t had the best of relationships with either the female folk or the male folk. Most of the girls I had as friends were probably not around to stay. Most of them hurt me, stabbed me in back and left unhealed wounds and the men, I liked and loved some but I could not wholely open up to any of them because I can’t trust them probably because the man who was supposed to hold me and protect me at infancy left me. I keep to myself; I feel I’m safe in my own world because, everyone there knows me and everyone is no one- its an empty room
I’m everything beautiful but it’s hard to convince my very self. Compliments seem like mere mockery when I can see how good I am. Most times I need approbation for me to feel like I’m really doing great; I know my esteem is low but, I hardly admit that to myself or others. It’s been rough, being me. God knows how many demons I have had to fight in my mind and I keep fighting them because I believe I’m a strong woman. People should not come and judge me for what they have seen at first glance when they couldn’t even survive a minute being me if they knew a real me.
Sometimes, I can’t take the pain any more. I cry to myself in cold nights when nobody is watching because I can’t be seen in pain but, hiding is more cowardly and more painful. I am not so strong at this point but, I wake up everyday fantasizing about a better tomorrow when peace of mind reigns over me. It’s been years but, my life revolves on one single story that went wrong. That fateful day that bound me to hatred and sorrow.
Dear Lord, this is my prayer; my confession. It is probably the a confession for many who feel but can’t speak. Save us oh, Lord from ourselves; save us from our emotions and from this world”.