Bits and Pieces

You told me to write, and here I am, the sun is still black and everyone is asleep but I wake up needing to expose myself in straight even rows of black letters, so orderly, my thoughts contrasts with the cleanliness of this page. I wasn't sure what would happen. Its been over a month since I've attempted artistic suicide. I should have known it would be you that would come out. That is what scares me most of all. It is unnatural to love this way. What is this frightening destiny that we are supposed to live out that love will not die over hundreds of miles and years of pain? Oh, its too late. I think I've taken a step onto that pirate's plank, but I remember too much...

I remember you sitting in the corner of my apartment, so bitter against the past you still carried, raging against things you've done, embracing the pain that you felt you deserved. I remember your knuckles white as you gripped the steering wheel, the night getting later as you internally screamed. You just knew you couldn't trust me with that story, that glimpse of your horror. Surely no one would still love you...

I remember crying over those lost faces, pleading the world to care. No matter how loudly I screamed, nothing seemed to change but the overwhelming sense of failure.

I remember the dizzying reality of living life so full I thought I would break. We did break and here we are again; another step onto the plank.

There are forces that are stronger than two people. Destiny, whoever you believe decides it, is pulling and pushing, guiding and directing until a couple of souls can begin to feel inside out. I'm afraid to write this story down, you may recognize yourself in it, and I'm not sure if the thin threads keeping us together will withstand the pressure of that realization.

I wonder what is the plan of God. He gave us the choices and the mind to choose, but then that destiny slaps us around as we deal with the fallout of what we've decided.

You keep coming back to me, but the situation is impossible. Do you lay awake thinking of the past or do you daydream about the future? I can vividly describe the past, his face, your face, their faces, our tears, but the future is so foggy. Perhaps its because a decision is waiting on the sidelines, waiting to be sent into the game and change what this will all look like.

Why is the next chapter of my book glued shut? Will it stay like that until we come to that decision together, to move forward into the crazy plan He's molded for us? Where along the way did we get lost in the day to day and become okay with being plain? Perhaps if I tattooed my purpose on my skin like God chiseled the Law into stone I would stay true to it.

Sacrifice is the key, but who will send their pawn out to be slain first? Protect the King, but at what cost of our dignity? At what cost of our dreams? At what cost of fear and money and practicality? Passion, dedication, overwhelming commitment to one another, to the others around us, God and the people He has called us to: this is what we would sacrifice for.

I'm going to write quickly, faster than I would speak, before I lose my courage to lay it out for everyone to see. I've kept that screen in front of me for too long. I've acted like I don't need anyone or anything, especially not what we had before. Its more than being in each other's company, its who we're meant to be.