I'm screwed up.
What provides objective value quickly becomes a means to seek acceptance. The fruit of pride is sin, I'm convinced. I want to write, to teach, to reach others. But I've grown so accustomed to hiding behind my supposed verbal eloquence, crafting sentences to portray a watered-down version of my struggles. Making myself strong simply by willing myself to believe that I am. But I'm weak, terribly weak. Flawed, broken, incapable of blunt, raw, honesty with myself or with others. When I feel weak, I lean on superficial talents, creating a diversion that allows me to hastily repair the fortress of distrust I keep around my heart for protection. But at what cost to my quality of life, to my quality of faith in a dependable God? I long to love and be loved: to live selflessly and peacefully. To break is to admit my weakness. But, by persisting in weakness and brokenness, maybe I can find that loving selflessly is the most rewarding experience we undergo as human beings and the means by which God is most glorified.
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