Does God remember me? Dust to dust. Breathe to breathe. I am God’s creation. I think. Does God remember me?
Truth was close. I could feel it. Now, I don’t believe it was ever close at all. Maybe I want to. Maybe I don’t. Truth has always been a liar.
Shots changed my life. They pierced the night. Somehow they found me. In the midst of the chaos, I was I. God was God. In that moment, I touched the loneliness. God is alone. I was too. In the chaos…surrounded by thousands of people…thousands…I stood in the middle of the street surrounded by no one. I don’t know that I have felt God more at any point in my life. The solitude pulled me forward. I did what I was supposed to do. I did. I was. While there were people along the periphery, I was alone at the center. The cameras. The lights. The fear. What was I now? Scared. Where was I now? Somewhere. When was I now? Here. Why was I now? Fate. Who was I now? Human. The shots kept ringing. Though my feet were moving, I don’t think I’ve ever left that place. I’m still standing in the middle of the street. I’m still alone.
Death waits. Death always waits. Death is always on time.
Death is close.
Pain. It won’t let go. Even at the end…it just won’t let go. How do I survive? Is survival even possible? Maybe survival isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Pain management. Management pain. Is life about pain management? It seems that the management only leads to more pain…though management is addicting and hard to quit. Such an infatuation will eventually get us all. There is no way to manage the inevitable. The end is here. Should I wait? Pain. Should I open my eyes? Pain. Should I scream? Pain. In the end, there is only the pain of solitude. We suffer alone. We suffer and die in God. Our resurrection is our sobriety. This is what it means to be healed.
I’m still there in the middle of the street.
Darkness. Shots. Solitude. Pain.
Is it eternal?
I don’t know.
I simply stand here…
Clinging to my soul.