I cannot take this anymore

{ August 17, 2008 @ 5:41 am } · { Frustration }
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Never mind this ache in my chest. Forget the sudden chills across my skin. Try to push the needle under my skin; it won’t yield to forceful hands. Shove the liquid into my veins, because my mouth will not open to your sick lies. Force feed me these things you want me to believe. Stir the fear up in my gut. Mold me into a soldier, to raise arms against the “strange”. You take away my pen to hand me a sword. Your motives frighten me to the brink of self defense. And you are never satisfied. What will become of all those in your way? The country’s in ruins.

It’s Always Too Late

{ July 7, 2008 @ 7:50 am } · { sleep }
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In my bed, laptop glowing, keys clicking. It’s always too late in the night. Too late to be up, too late to do anything efficiently, too late to talk to anyone, too late to leave. But sometimes it’s too early. Too early to plan, too early to give up any chance of rest, too early to wake up from a sleep that has yet to come.

Two o’clock and I barely notice. My eyes are complaining, but my mind is unwavering. Uncompromising, it argues me to the point of exhaustion. Of course, my mind, being of my own stubborn nature, is relentless. I hope for a stopping point in my Internet binge, but that does not come with the cable option. My body is a struggling prisoner to my wandering soul, drifting in a stupor my mind does not find troubling.

Strange things come from a long night’s journey to nowhere. New high scores, random searches, familiar music, emotional art. And how could I forget the chain of words that string from the crevices of my late-night brain, so blatantly staring back at me in the black and white gaze of letters so familiar. What possesses my hands to continue through the motions they would seem to find so meaningless and ridiculous at such an unfriendly time of night? I can hardly take the ticking of the clock, the fear of being found awake at this hour by some woken sleeper.

By morning, my mind will be wiped clean of the night, astonished by the work of some seemingly unconscious force within me. The music lulls, gently reminding me of the new morning that is coming upon me sooner than I expect. Maybe I’ll find this quiet rant in this dark place again. Maybe I will find it in the light of the day these words are so unaccustomed to seeing. If I sleep, maybe the words will crawl back in, to torment me until the next night of 3 a.m. regrets. If I sleep, maybe they will let my mind rest, emptied of them for at least a few more hours. If I set them free, maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow…

Tornado Relief

{ February 13, 2008 @ 7:36 am } · { relief, tornado }
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    Storms terrify me.  I can’t really say it’s an irrational fear and blame it on some phobic disorder.  There’s a pretty good reason, I think.  Storms can destroy your entire house, community, or even your or another’s life in a single instant.  Yup. I’d say that’s a pretty good reason.  They are unavoidable.  If you get stuck in one, that’s it. No running away from it; just sitting and praying.

When strong storms produced tornadoes in the surrounding area, and created major destruction and death, it stirred something in my heart that I had been holding onto for a while.  It brought back memories I hadn’t really wanted to face.  About this time last year, a tornado tore through my hometown and destroyed part of it, taking with it the lives of a few of my friends.  It’s a scary feeling, to think that it could have been me seated next to them, to see the sheer power of something I can’t even pretend to control, tearing apart anything that I might love without discretion or guilt.

So many lives were taken in these more recent storms, and I couldn’t help recalling how I felt when I found out my friends were killed or imagining what it would be like to lose someone as close as my own family.  I couldn’t stop the memories from flooding back to me.  And yet, some of these memories were amazing.  Thinking back on when the tornado hit my hometown, I remembered all the help we received.  It was awesome the support that flooded our community.  The amount of volunteers and the miles traveled to help was enormous, and I couldn’t feel more grateful towards them.  It was hard on the community to lose so many young lives.  We were paralyzed.  But the volunteers that showed up so quickly were so full of love and served with a selflessness I wish I could have had to aid those around me.

And this weekend, I had the opportunity to do just that.  The neighboring cities were still struggling to pick up the pieces, and I felt a heavy debt to repay.  So many people had helped my community in the time of crisis, and I couldn’t ignore a similar cry to my own.  The empathy I felt for this situation overwhelmed me.  I wanted to ease their pain as the past volunteers had done for my city.

So the trip was amazing.   A lot of my friends responded to the call, and I was just absolutely stunned at the mass effort for a such a selfless work.   I thank the Lord for all the people willing to help with a pure heart those who are hurting and needing.  May God bless those who bless others.