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Another Bad Night

by Lazarus

I keep wondering how I can have faith in myself when I don’t even have faith in anything else.

I realize the earth spins on its axis and we revolve around the sun, begining and ending each day with by a spinning ballerina dance around ourself as the sun swings us.  I have faith, no, concrete belief that that is the truth.

I have logical belief that trees will continue to grow and flowers will bloom after i’m long gone.

But faith in myself is different.  I just dont want to suffer for the rest of my life, and I dont want to look up at the stars with an aching heart.  Always thinking that you’re staring up at the same sky. Yet the ache brings an old comfort to me, in a dead, empty sort of hollow way.  A feeling like deaf echos against cave walls in darkness.  Something that haunts me and tells me that everything is okay after everything.

Yet faith plays a roll in my comfort and security in the future.  How can I look up and think everything will be okay?  All of that for a fleeting moment of fuzzy emptiness.

I’m just sad again.  Not entirely because you’re gone,  or because you didn’t notice me before you left.  Because the future scares me, and I don’t know where to put my faith.

My parents still scare me, you know.  It’s a special type of torment.  You put everything into something they want and you are just rewarded with more dead heartache.  I’m tired of the alchohol.  Tired of the emotional abuse.  I’m tired of the cancer.

My Grandfathers’ gravestone was put up today.  It stood solitary among the other graves, a double-sized gravestone, with my grandmothers’ name already carved into the slab marble.  I never thought I would see him like that.  But you get there, and you stand alone and stare at it, in dreaded wonder of how everything poured into this moment.  You can’t help but think of the screaming. The screaming.  How fresh the grave is, yet how grass is creeping over the settled earth.  God, why’d it have to be now?

You think of your grandmother and imagine her, too.  You imagine both of them.  Back in that hospital room, everyone there. We’re crying, we’re all crying.   The only noise is the beeping of several medical machines, keeping charge of vitals.  Its not him, now.  Its both of them.  It’s cancer, again.  You can’r go back again, can you?  How could you?  I have to.  Its the end of all things.

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freeroma 6/6/2017 - 12:27 pm

I have issues with faith, too.
I keep faith that things *can* change.
Not always for good, not always easy.
But change happens.

Its easier to put stock in what you know and have known. Faith is a leap. Worst case, you end where you started.

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