There are moments I lose sense of reality.

In these moments I say or write things that, in all ways wrong, hurt people; this as a way to make a point. I understand it is wrong, and I have to convince myself that it is going nowhere. The people these comments are geared for don’t care. You would think moments like this would lead to more prayer. Yes it does, but not for the reason you think.

I am making great steps to fix wrongs, the one action we have been asked to do by our Lord. Part of that is by my associations. Part if this is by action. I also have started to realise that everyone has moments of uncomfortableness, as pointed out to me by a friend. I see posts of family anger quite regularly (some from myself). A while back, I would have unfriended a person who ranted about a personal issue; now, I take note to include them in my prayers, and take it as their right to do this.

I am guilty of airing my personal grievances, which is my right. Authors are given prizes for characters flawed and shattered, but in turn we chastise those who air a real life story. We see reports on the news about the lives of ordinary people going through extraordinary things – good and bad. Granted, the Olympic sob-stories are getting a bit over-the-top. We seem to accept adversity and awesomeness if it happens to someone we don’t know.

You can choose to ignore or you can choose to support. I have been doing the latter lately, and it feels good. It will take me a lot to let someone go. Though some quicker than others. I pray for forgiveness, but also for grace, which I don’t deserve.

Please stop comparing my behavior to someone you don’t like or those who have passed on. There is no chance for defense. That is defeating the purpose and not much help in the end. I admit I have heard, but I do not listen. I do not believe everyone hates me. I do not think something is owed to me. I do not think I am better than everyone. I want compassion. I want recognition of my humanness.

Yes, I have spent a lifetime apologising. Yes, you have told me to stop – about thirty years too late. I do not lay blame on what I am and what led me here, as there is no point. We need to move forward. That is tough to do when you are doing it on your own.

Maybe I need to release myself from all of this; find people who understand what I am going through. Oh, that is not going to be difficult at all. That is not sarcasm. Now that I think of it, reading and writing (and now music) are my only connections to everyone. Has my reading mateial taken me away from everyone? Yes. Is that a good thing?

I don’t know. I want acceptance of being a little bit different than everyone.

Maybe yes.

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