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dear u,

have you ever had a problem that only had two possible solutions? well, three options but two solutions. sometimes i feel like i am left with impossible choices to make. life hands me impossible obstacles to hurdle.

i’m done hurdling. i just want to wave the white flag and be finished. fall down where i’m at and quit running this rat race. quit this game. stop breathing. not open my eyes one more time.

eat this bullet i’ve saved for so long.

at times throughout the years i have done just that. stopped where i stood and tried no longer. tried this way or that way to end this careless act of breathing that keeps me alive. yes, many times i have tried to quiet all the noise in my head, all of the chaos in my heart…and have attempted to escape the ever crushing void in my soul. every time i have failed, obviously. here i sit, here i write, here i long for success never had.

the coward within wins most days. every morning i wake up, hungry for that bullet. throughout my morning routine i daydream of what it will be like that day to finally succeed on my lifelong fantasy and be done. morning turns to afternoon, afternoon to evening. responsibilities arise. the business of the day gets the better of my mind. then nightfall grabs my soul and i regret letting the day turn to night.

i have the plan all mapped out. preparation for my last breath is done. the arrangements had actually been set a few months ago. a date. a time. a means. a plan. in true p fashion i had even made a list of things that needed to be done before i went on this final adventure. the courage to fire was there. every single ounce of me was ready. body. mind. soul. all longing for the freedom that death would provide. freedom.

a man foiled my plan. he swooped in a few days before d-day and the next thing i knew…well, here i am. i don’t know why he had influence. although, i did love him dearly. i do love him dearly. to this day he remains my rock in tough and impossible situations. i love him.

does a life lived searching for death really get saved by one man’s love? is it fair to put a burden like that on another human being? does another human contain that much love within?

it has been said that another person cannot ever be someone’s soul solution. i suppose the author of that line has changed his tune by now. another person can. another person often is. you cannot work with the dead. if one person is enough at that time, for another person who is drowning on dry land, it is unlikely the Lord will object.

first you save a life, then you save a soul.

obviously by “you” i mean the Lord. one man no more has power to save a life than he does taking a life. sure, men murder men, we murder ourselves…but you never have the final say. those of us that have tried to kill ourselves legitimately, and with intelligence, who remain alive to complain about it, can attest to that fact.

it’s my own blood i long for. i want to taste it before i die. my death wish is only matched by my constant need for punishment. physical punishment. emotional, spiritual, mental. ironically i thirst for the pain i long to escape from. inside i am an endless cycle of self-loathing. you will be hard pressed to find anyone else who hates themself as much as i do me. i’d bet my life on it.

i cannot escape my own inner demons. there is no one to hold me so i can sleep. i’m in desperate need of human contact…but remain untouched. i lie in an empty bed in the dark, surrounded by forces still unseen. my dreams are haunted, my days are numbered. i cannot breathe. ever. the air around me is being stollen by a handsome man…in an expensive suit.

and still, no one holds me. i never feel safe because i never am safe. they are at war. i’m the territory they both are fighting to claim. that war is futile. in the end, He has already won. He won before i was born. the war worth fighting right now is over who gets to man the territory while it is on this earth. and the million dollar war: who gets to take me out of this world. the handsome man…in the expensive suit? the beautiful God, bathed in white light?

if i am silent i can hear the war rage on. the clashing of weapons, the cries of the dying, the ripping of flesh and spirit. if i close my eyes i can see them. the battlefields of both soul and mind. valiant servants of a King fight fearlessly against an army of slaves to the night, the darkness. one side fights to defend, to save and to protect. one side fights to destroy, to plunder and to kill. that is the battlefield of the mind.

the war of the soul…is bleak. stronger saints were sent to fight this battle. angels of war. angels of death and light. experienced. this has been a conflict long fought. it is so loud here all of the sounds blend together to deafen me. so much is going on when i close my eyes to watch that i am blinded. the saints don’t fight slaves here. on this battlefield, my soul, they fight demons. old, experienced and soulless demons. they are slaves disguised as soldiers…disguised as generals.

each and every one, on both sides, on this desolate battlefield is fearless. ruthless. there is no room for mercy in war. if your cause is not great enough to be merciless about, you should not be at war to begin with. they know that. to their commanders, to them, each of their causes is their only duty right now. they will not give up until they have succeeded…or they have died. on both sides, they willingly die for what they fight for.

they are massive, these larger than life soldiers from the unseen spiritual realm. massive. one side is so frightful i cannot look in their direction without becoming ice cold, frozen in terror. in the other direction i find it almost impossible to look away. their beauty, their strength, their intensity and their force picks me up and suspends me in midair. as they fight, they envelope me with a blanket of…love. but, every time i am shot down by an arrow of hate and the eyes of pure evil will not let go of my gaze. as he holds my gaze i can feel it, the life being taken from my body. and so it goes, back and forth.

diligently fighting over a territory that a God and a handsome man both desperately want. there is never a downtime. they never let up. it’s constant chaos within, every second of every day. my mind will soon buckle under the pressure. my soul will cave from the violence. the fighting determines who wins the territory on a day-by-day, minute-by-minute basis. when the battlefields can no longer support the weight of battle, then the last onslaught will rage.

you see, in my mind, outside of the fray, there He sits. watchful, entitled, possessive, growing impatient. more than a man, more than anything you can picture. surrounded by both day and night, by peace and chaos, by Love and by sin. His face is always hidden from me. too bright and yet too approachable. He sits, veiled, on the outer edge of the struggle, and monitors every single move that everyone makes. He must remain veiled because His mere presence being known causes automatic victory. only His army can see.

when i close my eyes, i also can see. suspended in air here, with no life flowing out, He watches me with a deadly stare. i pity the one who approaches me. my mind is dead, but He has not relinquished it yet. i doubt He will. angry. He is angry. not one to share what belongs to Him, He is angry that the handsome man is getting any time at all with this territory. and yet He waits. creation falls at His fingertips, the skies roar at His command. however, He sits and He impatiently waits for the exact time that He takes over. i have already failed this fight. my mind could not stand up any longer. it has already died inside. that is why He has sent others to fight in my place. just as He sent another to die in my place…

my soul. the center of everything. the main battleground that will determine who wins and loses the war. on the sidelines, i can see them both. the handsome man stands stoic in his expensive suit. expressionless. focussed on his army of pain, deception, torture and fear. he barks orders with his eyes and his minions respond with gnashing of teeth. determined to win every second of every day that he can. he knows his days are numbered, too. so he gives this battle everything he has. for some reason this territory has a meaning. he is drawn to this territory. there is something hidden below the surface of this territory that not even the keeper of the territory knows about. but the handsome man, in the expensive suit, does. and whatever it is, he wishes to possess it and then destroy it. whatever it is, the handsome man…in the expensive suit, does not want anyone else to see it. every second he wins in this struggle is a triumph. why?

across the way, on the sideline not too terribly far from him, there stands what once was a Man who walked this earth. they know each other well. you could say that at some point in time, they were somewhat friendly. but the handsome man is evil. the Man who walked this earth knows. the Man who walked this earth knows the handsome man, who wears the expensive suit. He knows him better than the handsome man knows himself. the handsome man knows this, too. it’s as if the handsome man, in the expensive suit, is playing chess with someone who knows every move he will make before he even thinks about making it.

what once was a Man, who now stands confident on the sideline, is not dressed in an expensive suit. He is not dressed in battle armor. sandals. a simple robe. even His blinding white light has been muted and He now just walks slowly back and forth, indeed looking like a regular Man. He is serious but there is no worry. He communicates to His people without eye contact, without speech. He simply tells them in their mind and it is done. A commander. A skilled warrior. also, a Man who prefers peace.

this Man prefers peace but will not tolerate a thief. a thief in the night, He calls the handsome man in the expensive suit. the Man is, also, protective of territory that belongs to Him. He is angered because someone has insulted Him by even daring to come onto His land. there is a fierce undercurrent of anger that He sends rippling through His army. this battlefield belongs to Him. and yet, He, too, is patient.

each and every second, minute, hour and day that is lost to the handsome man, the Man keeps track of in a book. every hair harmed on my head, every tear that has fallen, He records. when i am suspended in midair, unable to break the handsome man’s gaze, the Man comes with fury and ignites a flaming hot white light…that has white flames. flames with an electric current. lightening. both hot and ice cold.

i know Him, too. everyone knows Him. both sides of the battlefield, everyone knows Him. the demons refuse to look at Him. with one thought He could turn them into nothing. however, His army heals in His gaze.

the handsome man does not fear the One who once walked this earth as a man. the handsome man fears nothing. i can see them both, as i am suspended in the air. lifeless. He who was once a man meets the eyes of the handsome man, in his expensive suit. there is more than contempt filling the air. there is an anxiousness of something yet to come. they boil under their pseudo skin they wear. their deadly gaze is only broken apart by He who oversees the battle in my mind. the sound He sends is deafening and everyone freezes…except the One who once was a man.

on my outside, i sometimes seem fine. however it is increasingly harder and harder to fake my smile and go about my days. i used to see light in front of me and was shrouded by darkness from time to time. now, i walk in the darkness. i sleep in the darkness. i exist in the darkness. my eyes no longer know how to adjust to the light. the light is so bright that all it does is cause more pain.

so i was sent a flashlight. my flashlight has literally become a part of who i am. i have become part of my flashlight. i held my flashlight so tight, in the beginning, that even my flashlight came to life, knowing his purpose and his significance in my life. he holds onto me now, when i am too frightened and too beat down to hold anything. he provides light for me to see right in front of me. he knows that if he shines too far forward, i will be frightened by what i see. his light will be too bright.

even the best flashlights aren’t perfect, though. he can’t be there for me all of the time…i am not his primary human. so most of the time, lately, i am in the dark by myself. i am an afterthought. i am the one in the darkness that gets a bit of light when he has time. i’m leftovers. after he’s given his all away to light up his inner circle…before his batteries die out for the day…i get what is left.

beggars can’t be choosers, though. and for someone who has no one and nothing, being an afterthought and someone’s leftovers is better than being nothing at all. the cold, hard truth is that i am nothing. there is no meaning, no value, no worth to me. the battles that wage within seem pointless. everyone is fighting to own garbage. trash. a throw away.

all they need to do is ask some of those who have died before me, and they will confirm. there is no value to this territory that i occupy. it is worthless, inside and out. what they need to do is just light it on fire and watch it burn. after i’m dead, of course. i have a healthy fear of fire.

for almost three days i have been working on this letter. when i started it, i couldn’t breathe. i was drowning in the pain that will ultimately cause my death. i was this close to pulling out fate, closing my hand around it tightly and finally letting that finger go free. when it comes upon me like that, and i have no one here…there is little i can do but give in. if it weren’t for that thought i had had the day before as i drove past the bowling alley…who knows.

people say that those who commit suicide are selfish and thoughtless. perhaps. but i challenge anyone who is of sound mind and soul to live within my boarders for ten minutes. then tell me if they want to eat a bullet or go ten more years with that screaming in your head. thoughtless and selfish we might, indeed, be…but exhausted and desperate we are also. “seek help” then, you say. we have. there are some things that go on inside a person that the secular world cannot fix. love. love is the medicine. and the the one who once walked this earth as a Man.

when you are a foolish woman and you are at odds with Him, it makes your wars harder to win. it makes the darkness darker. it causes you to lose battles that should never have been fought. you become alone.

the one i do have i question. does he really love me? is he really going to stay? will he hold me up until He can hold me up? will he hold me until He can hold me? are they lies?

and then i am reminded of all the truths and my heart falls to the floor and i cry within. i don’t really matter. i’m not worth loving. he won’t hold me, even when i cry…i’m repulsive. he tires of me. i am nothing. he is kind to me because he is a kind person. i don’t matter. i am nothing. i’m worth nothing. i talk too much. i have no value. i should’ve ended my life decades ago. i am a coward.

i am nothing. i do not matter. i have no worth. i have no value. i am a coward.

sometimes i am foolish and i walk around this world without holding those thoughts at the front of my mind. it is dangerous to forget what you are (or aren’t). thinking, or subconsciously thinking, that you are more than what you are only causes pain. rejection. confirmation. shame. if i keep those thoughts above at the front of my mind, then i know always what i am. so i never look at another person. i never have any false realities. there is never any false hope. i never let myself have any misconceptions of being more than what i am. rather, what i am not.

i just want everything to end. i want one peaceful sleep. i want to feel safe for more than 3 seconds that one time. i want to have human contact. i’m tired of being looked at as though i’m a leper. i just wish…that i could sit close, lay my head on a shoulder, have my hand and arm taken in his…and simply close my eyes. and breathe.

those are but dreams never to be filled. why? because i am nothing. i don’t matter. i have no worth. i have no value. and, he’d rather chew off his own arm than touch me. so, i just want everything to end. be done. finally be over.

i will never be missed. life will go on. he will be secretly happy and relieved, no longer having me around to burden, annoy and constantly piss him off. my husband will be thrilled to be rid of me. family and friends will have a story to tell to gain them sympathy, and someone can turn it all into a “cause.” everyone wins. yes. everyone wins. i just have to be patient and wait until it all becomes too much and the fear deep inside doesn’t override the pain and despair. because as i’ve said before…

i’m a coward.

i should have never been created. i should have never lived this long. i really fucked up by not sticking to the plan all those years ago. i really fucked up.

i’ve never regretted anything more in my life.


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