Sometimes I wish I weren’t such an emotional person — that I could just be “okay” through everything. I wish I didn’t fall in love so easily — that I didn’t so casually wrap up my heart inside a box with a certain person’s name on the lid. It breaks too easily in that box. Sometimes I wish I weren’t so fragile, so easily broken. Even scenes from films, completely made up, have the power to bring thoughts to my mind that shatter me. It happened just last night in fact. I got home after work and my mom had a movie on. I stayed and watched till it ended. Those closing scenes broke me — that pain, replicated by someone who knows how to be convincing, leaked into my own heart and mingled with my own blood. I felt like crying. Why? Why do I have to be this way?
Sometimes I want nothing else but to be alone, for a very long time — alone to yell at God, to scream and cry, and be still, and listen, and wait, without worrying about anyone around me, without thinking if this undignified outbreak would be looked on well by those who say they love me. I want to lie in the puddle of my own destruction, to revel in it. I want to be given pity, comforted. Pay attention to my hurt! Cry for me as I would cry for you!
Then I want the shame — to berate and scold myself for this disgusting display of unnecessary emotion, this pointless bleating, useless nonsense, worthless weakness. Give up the pity party and open your eyes to the real pain in the world; yours doesn’t compare and it never will, so stop complaining!
I want an embrace. But not from you; you can’t fix me! I want the Father’s arms — to be healed, not partially, not temporarily; completely, forever. God, make me whole!
I want to stop caring. About girls, friends, success, all of it. It doesn’t matter!
I want freedom from everything that ties me, everything that holds me back from reality, from what matters and what’s valuable. Freedom from the lust of my flesh that I’m too weak and stupid to defeat. I can’t win, I can’t fight!
The silence is too heavy for me — I want to listen to music till my ears bleed and my eyes close forever for want of use. This is all. This is everything.
I want to be done with it. Leave me be. Give me peace.
Anyone who ever tells you that they aren’t broken, is a liar. Everyone is broken.
— Joel