The following poem was written on May 8, 2020. Its raw ending is very reflective of where I was at the time: broken and stuck. If you feel hopeless, please reach out to someone. Please reach out to me. The message of the gospel is that Christ died to give you everlasting hope, freedom from bondage, and belonging.

My world crumbles when I rest.

Cracks open up–vulnerability that’s sitting in the bated breath of a dormant soul.

I stare at the gap, longing to leap in faith,

yet I run from it.

I run into the dark,

And I dive into my storage of moments and money;

My hoarding of achievement and affirmation–

Things I’ve saved to use as I please.

And I like our world–me and my hoard.

For a moment I’m okay. I’m held.

So I save it.

I save the marks of success and the opportunities that arise.

I save it all.

But myself.

I cannot save me.

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