I hope everyone out their is getting their cuddle puddle on!
Grieve? You want me to grieve? As you are starving, hurting and aching, try to grieve it. Try to grieve your lack of oxygen as you are asphyxiated and drowned.
Cry? I’ve cried! If tears could make any comfort, I’d have comforted the world. If only tears could fix things. Alcohol. Prayer. Crying. Fleeting, lasting only a moment.
Crazy. I get worse and worse. I can label the problem at first, but as i sit in it, I sink past the sludge into liquids thicker, pains beyond my ability to comprehend. Desire is lost, values are forsaken.
God isn’t gone. I don’t feel like he is gone. He’s up to something. And yet, I find little comfort. I am with a sustainer, but unsustained. I am with a healer, but unhealed. I am with a comforter, but uncomforted.
There is… occasional comfort. Genuine comfort from God. I lap it up quickly like a canteen spilt on the sand.