Artwork by Dave Kinsey

I’ve been frantic lately. Frantic in a way that most people don’t ever see me exhibit. Probably because no one ever cares to talk to me in depth about it, nor is it that important. If I am all things to all men, why is it that there is no connection, no response? I’m not who they say I am. I am not who you think I am.

As I walk in the morning, I pray and I listen. I listen to podcasts of pastor’s feeding their flocks, and I feel like I’m somewhere in between heaven and hell. Not quite a saint, most definitely a sinner. I holdfast to what I know is true, but it is so lonely when the skies pour down their droplets onto my clothing.

I don’t expect praise from those around me.

I’m constantly looking for something, something that will make this life feel better.

Where is the joy that was promised me?

Where is this so called victory?

Do I really have to sacrifice to gain? Do I really have to just get to that waking hour where reality is senseless and I am just another figure in the cartoon? I can not evoke much humor, when I find nothing funny any longer.

Is life worth living without any friends?

I’m finding out daily.