Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Oh, how do you reply a message like that. It's not even right for me to say what where when but reading it just put me at a loss. It just takes me back to when, and it feels just as painful just as painful just as painful I know how she feels. When I thought about her crying I felt like crying too. I gripped the railing so tightly I thought my fingers were going to break and all the blood went to the tips like 10 raw sausages with bloody ends. I wish I could just be there.
But it all seems so insuperable sometimes so you just sit there and wonder what to do about all of it. Maybe you've got to sit there and just let it overwhelm you and sweep you off and let desolation overtake anger overtake greed and feel relief and jealousy compete in the same arena and get irritated. Please, maybe you should grant me just a trickle of hubris. Some things I don't understand, and some things I just plain refuse to, and I hold a lot of things I'm forced to know in contempt. No games, just sports. I never thought about it this way before, but you probably feel the seven deadly sins just as equally as you commit them.

I don't know, maybe I'm using religion like an emotional crutch; maybe I'm "religious" because I'm scared of not being religious or I'm scared of being labeled an infidel on Judgement day or maybe it's something I cling to because.
I've heard cynics say, well, the Church is based on fear. And I suppose if you do think through it seriously, it makes some sense. I'm not offended by it (should I be?). I'll be honest: I'm scared to go to hell.

A turning point: When the line, written in the diary, read as 'I am exhausted, but loved' is revised afterwards, inverted: 'I am loved, but exhausted.'

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by @ 5:15 PM