An Earnest Plea

 

Hear my cry, Oh Lord and deliver me through prayer.  It’s been years since we last spoke so I won’t blame you if you don’t care to listen. I’m not who I pretend to be and I’m not sure if I can continue to live this way. I don’t enjoy lying to the people I love and care about, but I’ve lived this way for so long that I can’t seem to break free from it. I have to be so many things to so many different people I no longer know how to be myself. All of the faces I put on are starting to merge into massive cocoon swallowing what little sanity I’ve managed to hang on to all these years.

From being funny with my friends, to a caring lover at home, even the fearless leader at work, I feel the pressure slowly pushing the walls in. I have to be” on” from sunrise to sunset. Never missing a step and always ready with a witty reply and overwhelming confidence. The thought often sickens me. There are days I fight to get out of bed. I lay staring at the ceiling trying to find reasons to get up and I spend at least an hour convincing myself they’re valid enough.  The moment I slide the sheets back and slink into my worn mattress I sometimes hope there won’t be a tomorrow.

I’m ashamed to admit that, even to myself but it’s true. Life isn’t supposed to be this way. I’ve worked hard to get what I have and it should be something I enjoy. Somehow I can’t find any pleasure in much anymore. I’ve lost myself and the hole is so deep I can’t see daylight. I feel like I live for everyone else. I absorb so much that the release becomes more of an overload. Everyone has problems. Everyone one wants answers and advice but no one has time to listen. I get dumped on pretty heavy and being “superman” means I’m bulletproof. At least it does to the people I know.

I guess what I’m really saying am I feeling used up. I have a life to live but I don’t feel like I have the strength to carry on. I’m so many things to so many people I don’t think I can take off the masks without self destructing. I don’t think that when… if I let my guard down that there will be anyone there for me the way I’m there for them. The fear of knowing I’m actually alone is something I doubt I’ll recover from and it’s the reason I hide in my cocoon. It’s the reason my life feels empty at times. It’s why I feel like the person everyone knows doesn’t really exist.

I’m not sure if you’re hearing this or even care, but I feel some relief in knowing that if you are real then my words haven’t fallen on deaf ears. I don’t expect you to fix anything by snapping your fingers or tearing the world asunder to make things right. I’m not even hoping for words of wisdom or a guiding light leading me to the answers to all my prayers. I think knowing that there could be something or someone out there greater than I am, someone faster than bullets or stronger than trains, could be listening is good enough for one more day. And sometimes, when I’m staring at the ceiling in the early morning hours, one convincing reason is all I need to take on that day.