December 10, 2010



I want it.

Perhaps you misheard me, didn't get the full effect, or any number of other possible mishaps. Let me say that more clearly.

I want it.

I want to be known, loved, and respected. But you are, you might say. Why else would you read this utterly depressing blog? Respect, knowledge, or love...they do seem like the biggest possible reasons you'd be here. But how many people do I know who actually checked this blog and asked for more even when nothing had come for months and months? Perhaps two.

Maybe I only crave the petty and worthless respect of princes and men, but I still feel alone. And, in many ways, that seems the only way I can be really respected. My words and actions when I do decide to act are such that I only regret them when they've happened, and fear them when they might. I realize that, most likely, the problem is solely between God and I, but the less I am known, let alone loved, the less I have any inclination to know or love anyone. However little I am trusted, so little do I trust.

My desires sabotage any attempt I make to become less alone. Further still, when I my plight reveal, I always fear I am but seeking pity, that when I look for comfort, it is unearned.

And where have I put God, that I could be where I am? Have my passions and the greatest desires of my heart put God on a barely sufficient back burner?

The worst? I don't trust myself enough to believe half of this when I most need to...and forget about ever hearing about it unless I know you well.

Ultimately, I know the root of my trouble must be sin, and doubtless mostly mine. Still, I am truly alone enough that no counsel is welcomed when found.

I have no happy ending for this post, no passage to suave my, nor anyone else's woes. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this. Honestly, I don't know what purpose this post will ultimately serve. What end is accomplished by it is beyond me.