I have never killed anyone or robbed a bank, but I feel like I am doing time. My prison is one with open doors. Somehow that makes it worse. My punishment is living without the courage to walk through those doors.
I sometimes wish that I had done something really terrible. Worth the remorse, pain, and guilt. I waver back and forth. Often believing that I am pretty bad, but thinking myself alright when I just can’t handle feeling bad anymore. I am sure that no one is innocent. Yet convinced as I am that I do not deserve it, I yearn for life abundant.
There’s a harsh truth to face. No way I’m going to make it on the outside, not the way others seem to. I can’t live an ordinary life. All I do anymore is think of ways to break ‘out’, so maybe things would change, and I might find freedom. I do not even know what that freedom looks like. Peace. Light. Life. Clarity. I want to go there. I want to bring you with me.
Terrible thing, to live in fear. All I want is to be back where things make sense. Where I won’t have to be afraid all the time. I do not know if I have ever known such a place. But I hope that it does indeed exist. Despite the prison I may face, that hope can not be taken from me.
“Get busy living, or get busy dying...”
I choose life.
