What 2016 was like

Dear God,

First of all, let’s not romanticise brokenness. What is art for you is poison for me. Let’s not inscribe floaty metaphors about my eyes being like shattered glass because when it’s only eight o’clock in the evening and you still have a few hours to go, the hot tears that I blink back are not beautiful. The rattling hollowness in my chest every time I inhale, hoping to feel a cheerful heart and not one that is tired of this lonely world is not musical. The bloodcurdling scream of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm me every now and then is not lyrical. What do you do when you want to cry but you don’t know what to cry for? What do you do when everything in you yearns for success but you don’t know if you’ll ever find it? Sometimes the only pay off for having any faith is when it’s tested again and again every day. For how long do I continue to smile everyday even when I’m breaking apart? For how long do I pour my pain into words hoping that it’ll soothe someone else’s soul? For how long do I keep believing that happy endings are real when I can’t any find evidence in this fragmented world to support it? For how long do I help others the way I want to be helped? For how long do I allay their pain with the words I want to hear? For how long do I offer others everything that I’ve always wanted?

For how long do I continue living before I find a reason to again?

God:  Read 2:35 AM