To everyone who commented on the last, thank you for your support. For a bit of background on this post, click here. Also, for the record, I’m doing great, now. I was proved very very wrong and I am thankful for that.
If I find in myself desires nothing in this world can satisfy
I can only conclude that I was not made for here
If the flesh that I fight is at best only light and momentary
Then of course I’ll feel nude when to where I’m destined I’m compared . . .
I briefly felt as if I belonged when I went to youth group. When I served in youth group. But was that because I forced myself to belong simply as a means of ingratiation to the one I looked up to? I don’t know. After a while, I realized that my mistakes had been dragging me down all along, preventing me from truly belonging. It was my own fault. And because of those mistakes, I can not go back to the same place, to the same people, and allow them to accept me again. I’m afraid that I’ll let them down perhaps again.
It is similar whenever I move to a new place. Right now I’m at a music festival where my piano teacher has honestly told me that I’m not the best; in fact, I’m among the worst simply because of my lack of experience and no care to proper technique before I came to college, among many other things. He wanted me to come here to be inspired, mainly. At the same time, I’m supposed to be able to perform a few pieces in front of people who would know that the instant I place my fingers on the keys that I’m a fraud. I heard it in my mind when I laughed at his jokes. When I shook hands with the person at early check-in. When I shook hands with the lovely young Korean lady pianist from Juilliard. Fraud. Fraud.
As if they already know that I have no chance.
I’m really not as together as I’d like to make myself out to be. Most times I’m desperately trying not to give in.
I understand that this is a place where hard work simply isn’t enough. I’m going to have a lot of learning to do, that’s for sure. That’s okay, although it worries me. I think I might be prepared for that.
It’s not just that I’m worried about, though.
I’ve always been a painfully shy person. He tells me that I am “socially awkward.” It is true… and I have become even more so after that mistake I made a couple of years past. This past mistake I have already repented from and moved forward, but I am still such a long way from where I’m supposed to be. Sometimes I feel as if the scars will never go away. I’m afraid of letting myself near. Of letting people come to close to me. Is it because I don’t want them to find out how hopeless and empty I truly feel? Is it because I’m afraid that the darkness inside of me is contagious and they’ll get sucked in, too? Of letting them become aware that I am yet another truly broken individual who feels so very helpless?
Am I lost or just less found?
On the straight or the round-a-bout of the wrong way?
Is this a soul that stirs in me, is it breaking free, wanting to come alive?
I am so afraid of what’s inside of me.
And the walls that I’ve put up around myself have become a very part of my existence… to the point that I don’t even know how to take them down any more.
Is this all melodrama? Spare me…
For my comfort would prefer for me to be numb,
And avoid the impending birth of who I was born to become
I know that I am going to try my best even if I am only doomed to failure. I hope that won’t be the case.
I couldn’t sleep the first night, thinking about my mistakes and trying to move beyond my scars. So I’m sitting here on a Sunday morning, with no internet (which is why this will be posted some time later), trying my best to be brutally honest for once in my life. Desperately listening to Brooke Fraser’s C.S. Lewis Song, which is where these lyrics are coming from, and trying to let myself be reassured that everything is going to be all right. Trying to find that peace of God that everyone talks about but has been elusive for me at best.
In spite of all of it, I think I am afraid.
Afraid that I will make more mistakes — mistakes that will leave more scars. Afraid that once they really know how much is going on they won’t be able to accept me.
Afraid that I’ll not truly belong here, either.
Hope is coming for me
— C.S. Lewis Song, Brooke Fraser