Is it lost faith?
/
I'm lost. I'm a wanderer with chronic anxiety drowning in a sea of confusion while burning my stomach with turmoil accompanied by a shame filled head of regret. This is life.
I was like this before. I am back; I'm at square one. What happened? Had I not built a solid foundation upon which to build my home of contentedness? Apparently not because the walls of perception have begun to unravel all around me.
It is true I have learned much but I am beginning to realize why they say that youth is wasted on the young. In junior high I used to indulge in the fantasy of going back in time. If only I could go back to the age of 10 knowing all that I knew at age 14. I would go back and talk longer on the phone with my girlfriend; I would go for the kiss. I would do my homework. I would practice my saxophone. I would've started playing guitar. But most importantly I would tell my Dad I loved him. He died when I was twelve.
I would tell him that I've seen the future. I would save his life.
When I was 15 I wanted to go back to 14. I wouldn't of dumped my 8th grade girlfriend at the beginning of summer for all the chicks I was going to score.
This goes on and on all the way to age 37 right now.
Panic attacks at 37! Since I was 15; It's been fucking 22 years! 22 years of living in a different plane. The plane of fears and irrational thoughts of death. When does it stop? I used to think that I could find the one answer. I kind of did find the one answer; it was "there is no one answer, but a full spectrum of simultaneous multiple answers." I used to be much smarter and more creative than I am today. Today I'm tired.
This shouldn't make sense to anyone but my foundation was faulty. Maybe it was meant to get me this far, but now it's time for a complete remodel. I feel like God has cut my head open and started to rip out the wires. I'm being re-wired. At least I hope I am, if not I'm slowly sliding into hell. Hopefully instead I'm being pressured into a diamond.
I'm trying to save my soul and I waited too long. Sometimes late is better than never but it definitely hurts more.
I was like this before. I am back; I'm at square one. What happened? Had I not built a solid foundation upon which to build my home of contentedness? Apparently not because the walls of perception have begun to unravel all around me.
It is true I have learned much but I am beginning to realize why they say that youth is wasted on the young. In junior high I used to indulge in the fantasy of going back in time. If only I could go back to the age of 10 knowing all that I knew at age 14. I would go back and talk longer on the phone with my girlfriend; I would go for the kiss. I would do my homework. I would practice my saxophone. I would've started playing guitar. But most importantly I would tell my Dad I loved him. He died when I was twelve.
I would tell him that I've seen the future. I would save his life.
When I was 15 I wanted to go back to 14. I wouldn't of dumped my 8th grade girlfriend at the beginning of summer for all the chicks I was going to score.
This goes on and on all the way to age 37 right now.
Panic attacks at 37! Since I was 15; It's been fucking 22 years! 22 years of living in a different plane. The plane of fears and irrational thoughts of death. When does it stop? I used to think that I could find the one answer. I kind of did find the one answer; it was "there is no one answer, but a full spectrum of simultaneous multiple answers." I used to be much smarter and more creative than I am today. Today I'm tired.
This shouldn't make sense to anyone but my foundation was faulty. Maybe it was meant to get me this far, but now it's time for a complete remodel. I feel like God has cut my head open and started to rip out the wires. I'm being re-wired. At least I hope I am, if not I'm slowly sliding into hell. Hopefully instead I'm being pressured into a diamond.
I'm trying to save my soul and I waited too long. Sometimes late is better than never but it definitely hurts more.