I try to hide in my seclusion, frustrated by every little interruption outside of my precious schedule.
The quiet never stays long enough, but always when I don't want it to.
Tasks of the day pushed off, excuses made, justifications laid out, by and to myself.
I force myself into my own prison, where I am my own captor; the walls being this body, this personality, this discipline I'm fighting. There's only one window letting in light, and I'm shying away from it as much as I can.
The light reaches me anyway, no matter where I hide.
Contact from the outside sparks instant battle; I fight what I know to be True for the sake of who I think I am. Shots are fired, and hits are taken instantaneously. It is pride who yields my sword, trying so valiantly to protect my prison cell, and isn't going down without a fight.
Decisions are made to either participate in what it is I'm called to share, or retreat from it... and my own hypocrisy physically pains me...
Words come rushing in, words I thought I knew, but this new clarity literally humiliates me...
Accountability... and all that means; opening up all of me, strengths and weaknesses...
Community... being available... building up someone... beneficial... importance of understanding individual relationships... the responsibility that comes with that freedom, for myself and others...
I'm haunted by my recent failings; a prisoner sentenced to, and already living in, death.
The agony doesn't come from the crucifixion itself, the agony comes in the acceptance of the sentence; a sentence, if I would just shut up and listen for once, I'd see doesn't lead to the death I think it does.
