Boxes

A new breed of suffering has emerged, the color of my office walls.

The walls, the yellow walls, like the enchanting Victorian wallpaper of old, but instead flat and stifling under the florescent lights. The only escape is the electronic window that sucks me in, keeps me wanting more, and leaves me hungry every time.

Clicks, taps, and imperceptible hums and drums delve deeper and deeper into my subconscious. The slow, creeping fear that I am becoming less and less human, and more and more alone.

Funny how we think that sanity is sitting on a chair and staring at a box. Funny how our comforts are also in boxes. Boxes of wires, boxes of shoes, boxes of cereal, little boxes. They are still made out of ticky tacky.

The Lonely Road

This is a journal entry that I wrote several months ago. I recently came across it, and I was stunned at how directly it spoke to my heart. I want to share it as an encouragement– not because I have perfectly overcome loneliness, but because I still struggle sometimes with that feeling. I believe God will help me to be completely full of joy, so I don’t have to be lonely–but it is a journey and a struggle nonetheless.

 

No one can get my oil for me,

I must get my own.

Nobody can dig this well for me,

I must dig my own

No one can pray this prayer for me,

I must pray alone

 

There is a wellspring deeper in me

Deeper than my most intimate friend can touch

Deeper than my father can reach

Deeper than my mother can know

 

Their words fall in like pennies

And the water below rises in anticipation

To hear them falling, falling, echoing

A sound that resonates and vibrates in my soul—

But the waters wait untouched

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