Unspoken Written Letters

I can feel the anguish that courses through my body; the silence and the fear of the unknown that haunts me every night before I close my eyes. Sometimes in January, I feel the weight of who I am crushing me into extinction. Dear God, my path has dissolved in the darkness, your lamp is gone from me. I am like a deserted sailor. I am nothing. There are those mornings I wake up buried in a pool of tears. Mornings when my entire existence feels nothing but a waste of breath and time. Dear Constantine, I write to tell you that if you ever find me wandering the floating pathways of the afterlife, find Jesus. Tell Him I am sorry for all the good things I did not do. I wish I knew Him the way I knew my name. When I think about it now, my thoughts remain unspoken. Dear God, if I died today, would I be beautiful in your eyes. If I died today, what would you see? I know that my life would flash before my eyes when my heart eventually gives in to the grim reaper. I know that my life would become a story one day. A story that friends and enemies would tell their offspring; stories that may bring some to tears and others relief, after all only good things are said about you after you die. When the sun sailed across the sec sky, I looked yonder in to my past. The mistakes, and all the souls I hurt. I remember each faces. It never left me. Sometimes in January, my life is enshrouded in grief, guilt and fear. Dear Constantine, remind me that hell is real. Let if fuel my actions. Never let me forget. Remind me that I shall account for this temporary loan called life with interest. I wander in an ocean of doubt,whether joy will ever find me. Hope is dead. I killed her before she could ruin me with expectations. All that is left is me. I wish my skin could feel the tingling caresses of many blades. I need to feel. Love is lost. Time has ebbed away and I am comforted with end of everything. It's near. Dear Constantine, they said Jesus will be here soon, and I am not enough, barely ready. I am still crawling because my faith is lost. I think He doesn't like me much. Why did His father make me this way, Constantine? Why? I am sad all the time. My well of inspiration has dried up and I feel nothing. Where is God in my life? Am I still His? I feel like an outcast who has been abandoned to a God who doesn't want Him. Dear God, do you still love me? Do you still love people like me? My love for you has dried up in this chaos and in your silence, the shadows of this storm consume me the way the night fog consumes a mountain. Dear Constantine, my mind is blind and my eyes are useless. In my heart, the light flickers into darkness. I am broken. I am lost. It is better to be true than to be in denial. There is nothing here. Nothing!

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