Midnight Rambles - October 8th

I sat quietly today and wondered. There was no room for words, or loud, speaking sobs. Just soft tears, as they attempted to roll down the crest of my cheek. but got no further than my lashes. I couldn`t, you see. Let them out. It would be too difficult to say no to the others. So I had to say no to all of them. And no, not just the tears, but the emotions that threatened to burst through their confines and come yelling to the world in my defense, the hurt and bewilderment, I couldn`t, perhaps can`t, explain. Can`t relate to anyone. The pain, the confusion, the utter chaos, must remain within me, swirling and leaping within the boundaries I allow, never further than what I, myself, can control. More and more, I find myself hunting for an unnamed peace, fulfillment, which I seem to require with increasing urgency. A sense of disquiet steals over my being. Though, mistake me not, what I said before stands, but at those moments when I`ve been pushed to the limits, or what I believe to be the limit of my self-control. I may be wrong. It may be that the limits which I assume to be close knit and unexpansive are actually limitless, and I underestimate my own control. Seems to me though, `tis better to underestimate oneself, then to over-estimate, and fall flat with a much more painful and loud splat then would be heard upon falling due to underestimation.

I despise what I cannot understand. I cannot understand myself. What does one do, when the soul cries in desperation for salvation and peace, and the one person who it can cry to, the only person, is he who cannot help? I do not doubt, however, that everyone experiences such moments, and they pull themselves through. Inevitably, the distress, the raging fear, anger, and desperation will fade, and all that will remain is a distant memory of this night, a night when control could not, will not be found. I reiterate what I said before, just so the point of my midnight rambling becomes clear. I`m tired. Just, tired.

`Tis no doubt childish to constantly call out for someone, whom, for all I know, may not exist. But faith is one thing I do not lack, which is the precise reason why, despite all the anxiety, I still talk to "He Who Has Not Appeared". I shall not lose hope.

As the day surely comes after night, so you will surely come. As my reward, or my punishment, as my walking stick, or my shackle, as my companion, or my torturer, I await to see.