Broken. Clipped. Once again, I am on my knees and scrambling for answers. But find none.
What else is there to say? To do? To mourn? To pray? While I believe in providence and wisdom in all things, I am giving universe the finger right now. I am giving myself the leeway to curse, to cry, to be angry, to feel what I ought to feel.
After all, the past 3 years have been no joke. The literal image being me on my knees and praying for a break, a breather. ANYTHING.
I have done nothing but pray, wait and believe—in God, the Father Almighty, in His blueprint, in the greater and grander scheme of things. But it becomes difficult to sustain yourself in faith when you are constantly brought to your knees and when storms come one after another.
I have shed enough tears for today. I am done.
The feeling of waking up (and choking back the tears) has become all too familiar. I dread it. But I will have no choice but to fight the fight.
Ang sarap magmura. Ang daling bumigay. Pero kailangang magpatuloy.
Then again, when your better half picks himself up and decides he wants to get back on the horse and back in the race, there is no other choice but to do the same. I must lick the wounds in private, suck it up and power through. As the saying goes, “Tough times don’t last, tough people do.”
At this point, I couldn’t care less about image or yet another delay in my personal “timeline”. Fuck that. The future can wait. At this point, nothing else matters but him. Him overcoming this ordeal.
Nothing else matters.
Post Scriptum:
“I’ve let go the need to know WHY, because You know better than I.”
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