Gasping For Air


Here is something I wrote a while back, with a few tweaks here and there. Sometimes writing is the best way to deal with life.

At wits end. I don’t know what to do. Going forward in love only reaps the same conclusion as when I was ignoring the possibility of reconciliation. Nothing has changed.

Our offspring are levied as your own personal pawn to do with them as you please. By your calculations, placing hate on the other side of the equation balances me out. My feelings and thoughts are not given consideration.

I want a change from this eternal madness that is perpetuated by my own thought that somehow things might be just fine. The foolish thought that love conquers all still lingers in my heart. Maybe the aforementioned thought still rings true, but is absent due to the fact that any love you may have had died a long time ago.

The love you had has been replaced by hate. Spurred on by distant desires and unfulfilled dreams. Dreamy eyes replaced by a buried brow and springtime kisses pushed aside.

Absurd allegations amongst mental calamity has proven fatal for our family. Maybe a happy home was never meant to be. And since that which is asserted is so deafly untrue, it only deepens my sadness as I sit slumped over the missed opportunity. Why has winter come to take the joy of fall—the joy of all. Now I lay wounded on the battlefield. Gasping for air. Death is imminent.

But I serve a living God. The same way he prepared a fish for Jonah, he can do for me. No, us. Got to have faith and believe.