Nothing

Empty and cold, like ice. This feeling washes over me, wave after wave,full of nothingness. But in that nothing lies everything. If I only knew the code, the secret password that would unlock all of the mysteries I cannot even name. Where can I find this Rosetta Stone for my soul? Please, tell me. Where can I find the key which will unlock Me?

The ice, it stabs the heart, but then I wonder, what heart? For my inside is empty, and I feel the pain that isn't there. All of the confusion and the hurt and the love and the gain. All of it circles around inside, over and over without end. And I wonder how can there be so much inside, so much to feel? When I am on nothing but empty. When I am nothing.

This displacement that separates me from the world I long to connect with. This disconcerting power that makes me long to run away and hide from those who love me, that makes me question those who love me. Better judgment? Where has it gone, when reason whispers seductively "Just leave." Yet, what holds me here? Is it fear, or the common sense I thought had left? How am I to know which way to turn when there is no right or left, only circles that bring me back every time I try to step away.

A break. A second chance. I had it. Did I blow it? No, I lived it, and it was nice, but it didn't feel permanent. But where is permanent? This place I long to find to appease the restless nature that causes my heart to beat too loud as it attempts to jump out of my chest, running to get escape, to drink in that last breath of air and exclaim FREEDOM. But, I've travelled and travelled. And no place lasts for long. That freedom I live for keeps slipping away, out of reach. And now, as I've settled down in this "home" which I knew was never meant to last, the beating pounds out F-R-E-E-D-O-M in a never-ending tirade against establishment. It beats bruises on the inside of my chest, and if it were a man I would fling it away in disgust. But how can you fling your own traitorous heart away? Especially when you even question its existence?

Everything within me screams to go. But where? Where am I to turn as I burn the bridges I would surely burn. Where could I get my second chance, my third, and my fourth when the world around me goes up in flames? The Bible says the world is not my home, but how can God be so cruel as to allow us to wander the Earth looking for something which He could provide, but He won't. When we need arms around us to root us into place, where are His arms? And why do I still love Him when all I want to do is leave him and forget Him? Why does part of me still believe that He will come through, when all evidence points to abandonment?

And why, as I write this, with my insides colluding together to beat me to a pulp, do I feel numb? How can I feel numb when I feel everything? How can I feel everything when I am nothing?