I just realized, after months of trying to quit smoking and failing, that I am miserable.
I have lost something, which I thought I would recover over time, permanently and completely. I feel so angry almost all the time, and I can't enjoy the things that used to sweep me off my feet in joy. I have lost the ability to write, and now I'm afraid that I am also losing the desire.
So many people have taken their lives recently, and I had to wonder if I would ever come to that point of hopelessness and worthlessness. The pains that I have hoped would heal gets bigger and bigger, eating away at my heart, my love for people, my sense of self-worth.
I have begged Christ not to leave me, to please, please stay with me, but he seems to disappear through the storm. And I am like Peter, drowning in my fears, screaming, "Lord, save me!" I am trying to remember Christ and his face, the way he looks at sinners like me with mercy and understanding. But Satan's hand is pointing at me, and I can't see Christ anymore.
Please, don't go away. Don't leave me.
But why do I feel so alone, so cut off from the rest of the world? Why does the joy I find in his company, in the laughter of my family, in the care of my friends, dissipate too soon? I want to go back to that time when I feel happiest staying at home reading all day. To that time when I enjoy movies best when I watch them by myself at the cinema. When I can walk around without being scared of being seen by the wrong people.
I am very, very tired. I want to disappear.
"Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid."
"You can do this. You're God's champion, remember?"
"Never forget your first love."
"There are people who care about you."
"You are loved."
"You are not alone."
Enough. Enough now.
