When God first created heaven and earth, when the earth was welter and waste and God’s breath was hovering over the waters, he said, Let There Be Light.
He created a vault, or a slab of sorts, to separate heaven from earth. And the water on earth collected to be called the Seas and the dry the Land.
Lights in the heavens, one for the dominion of the day and one for the night, and he peppered in the stars, fixed in constellation to tell the time. Lights on, lights off, first day.
Feels we’re trapped in Babylon, and I don’t have the power to combat it. There I descend into unconsciousness and the white noise gradually drowns me. Some days I struggle more than others, but most of it is from self-imposed worry. It’s up and it’s down and you see it too, or I believed you did, because I thought I heard you speak of it, but I don’t know what’s become of us. Everything feels like my own fault; accept the things you can’t control.
I think it’s important to speak words with definition, but we have lost our grounding, our basis of understanding. I don’t think we have any idea what love is anymore. I wonder where he is and when he will return.
I guess there’s only one real example of love. I used to think looking to my parents would show me what love is, would be a way of understanding how we are all made of love, but the recent years have shattered my naive and charming thoughts. I’m not sure how many of us are made from love. Lust is a near identical twin, if you don’t know what you’re looking for. None of us do, I don’t think.
The only love that is honest and true is the love God showed us when He sacrificed His only son on the cross. Why is that love? What could that possibly mean?
God created us in His image, and gifted us free will. We used that freedom to sin, and we turned our lives to turmoil. He sent down an angel, a saint, a sinless child from the truly Blessed Virgin Mary. Virgin, by the way, is translated from almah, the Hebrew word for a young woman of marriageable age. That sinless child, Jesus Christ changed the world with every interaction, with his wisdom that came from the Jewish tradition and the questioning of the logical fallacies, the ability to read the prophecy. To understand the Word, not to regurgitate it or weaponize it. But the Word that saves us sent Him to His death by ordinance of the people. And this death opened our eyes and set us free — by redefining life itself. Through His resurrection, He proved the infinite. At least, to me, and some other folks who resonate with the story.
Sometimes it is exceedingly clear to me, and other times it is so opaque and strange to say that this could have been a sacrifice of love. At one point, I had concluded that He had a plan and the plan is the love. At others that he loves the rest of us enough to create an example to teach us. But I actually think none of it is love, in that parental way. I think it was just what it was. And it is evidence of our freedom. We even have the power to sentence our God to death, so mustn’t it be in our own hands to reverse the consequences of our sin?
Lost girl where are you going? Just hoping to feel a little, find my blood a little warmer and a little faster, and to see if I can get myself out of what I started. It’s all just a game to me. What are we doing but passing time anyway? We’ve already fallen, and now we’re just waiting, without any kind of suspicion of redemption. I’m just trying to escape, man. I just can’t be inside this body and all of its needs. There’s something natural, not wrong, but to time the sowing determines the quality of the harvest.
I knew not to hurt myself, but I had to find someone and the people around me I did not need to hurt. Fuck that bitch, he said. And I was, and he was right and I was a cynic and I wanted to steal the innocence anyone else was able to preserve this long. I wanted to have power and I chose to come to this wretched place mostly completely because CJ was going. My secondary thought was that I might have a chance at being a pretty girl if the goods out here are so odd. And all I wanted was to be a pretty girl so I wouldn’t be in the position that I was in, which was needing to be touched. And also not being able to be in a relationship, having just gone a little too far too fast and losing the chance to do things later and slower for the first time. The firsts were gone and the need to get high remained, because the circumstances, the cages, were changing. The dread of life was high, and the high was what I needed. Really quick answer, and it was only by suggestion, and I was always too young to want to be treated this way, but I already had been, and when it starts it goes and goes. That’s why they call it grooming, but it was innocent, I swear. If only I could’ve stayed in Catholic school, I yearn for it to all have been different. But I know well that was no antidote by any means.
There was a trigger event, and it was the fault of the colonizer, of course.
But how could I say no to those eyes and those hands? I never imagined to be wanted was a possibility. There are high school sweethearts out there, and there’s no reason this wouldn’t be it for me. I was in love. The kind of love you can only feel when you’re 15 years old. Completely idiotic sensation induced hormone release.
Such an old story. Teach them about animals and the story will tell itself and the nightmares will be evident, super extremely self evident.
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