A denouement

Look at me. I can't wallow in anguish, joy, or any other deep feeling without forming it into an applicable situation for a story character. My world is crashing down on me, and I'm wondering how to make a bestseller out of it.

How do I feel now? Surprisingly, not that bad. A sense of relief, now that it's over. Resolve, now that I know what to do. Renewal, making a fresh start. Regret? Perhaps.

There's a strange euphoria to being free. Light as a bird, light as a feather, light-headed? I went around the house this morning singing the Olympics theme at the top of my lungs, and then "They're Coming to Take Me Away." Triumph, and still going mad.

There's an odd peace in having a plan. I know to not trust myself as much, and examine myself more thoroughly. I know the world better now - nothing is innocent. I've dealt with a riptide, and thus know the ocean. It's big, blue, beautiful, and dangerous.

There's a funny excitement to starting over. The pleasure of seeing a chalky slate wiped clean, or waking up in the morning, or seeing the rain wash off the dust and dirt of the past week.

And there's an explicable twinge when I remember what had happened, that necessitated all this. The journey we've taken. The journey I now take. The journey that cannot be taken again.

Confusion

So after a few days of beautiful clarity (when an argument was won, you got an award for it and moved up to the next round), I've returned to a life of confusion again.

Two Prayers

To Our King, who lovest His subjects as His children,
May your name be praised above all names, glorified above all the unworthy idols in my life.
May Your mighty works never be forgotten or diminished.
May Your words remain forever in the most hallowed places of my heart.
May Your love be the defining element of my character.
May Your holiness be the one source of reverence and fear, the one thing that brings me to my knees.
May Your grace be my joy and my song.
And may You be the center, aim, and love of my life.

God, give me a heart of compassion and sacrifice. Teach me to desire the good of those I love over my own good. Let me endure pain, knowing that through it, I benefit those I love dearly, hence making such pain no pain at all, but joy. Teach me not to be selfish in feeling, but generous in acts, not self-serving in thought, but loving in deeds. And may my mind mold itself to my actions, that I may glorify and serve You in both.

Amen.

Innocents

We were such innocents. The world, for us, held nothing but schoolwork, play, and the occasional spat with mom or dad.
And then the changes came. We no longer trusted, no longer believed, and no longer felt truly safe.
We had begun to ask, "Why?"
Schoolwork was either evaluated in the light of our future hoped-for careers, or carelessly dumped. Playtime became full of duplicitous motives - and play for the sake of play abandoned as childish. Every argument became a life-or-death battle for truth, justice, and that little thing called personal pride. We entered into the politics of our people, the detective work of our own design, everything analyzed for some hidden motive.
We second-guessed one another, third-guessed, fourth-guessed ourselves into breakups and divorces, battles and wars.
Idealism crashed and raged against the cliffs of reality, and broke upon the shores of various non-realities and secondary half-realities. And although emotion, everyone claimed, had been left on the roadside, replaced by logic, logic was in fact out to lunch, and emotion manned the counter against its return. No one really noticed the difference, anyway.
And no one remembered what a soul looked like, because no one saw anyone else's, and most doubted that they had even existed in the first place.