Gary

Monday I was supposed to have a feeding-the-ducks date with Melissa, but who knew the unemployment office took not only your soul but your time? Meanwhile I decided to grab a book and find a bench to read.

I sat down on what is close to being the most uncomfortable bench ever and read maybe a page before Gary sat down. I was later informed that Gary was drunk, but he seemed pretty normal to me. He starts asking me the basics, do I live nearby, do I come there often, was I married...(maybe "basics" was too loose a term).

He commented on my long fingernails, then he noticed my scars. I didn't have a good lie ready so when he asked if I was suicidal I could only say "not right now." For the next eternity (ok maybe 30 minutes) he tried his best to tell me not to do that. He even included phrases like "treat it, or beat it" but I'm not really sure I want to delve very far into that one. . .


All this to say- Everybody wants to fix me.

I know its out of genuine care and concern, but you can't fix me. I can't fix me. Only God can, and apparently he's not in any hurry.

I'm in one of those places where I can hear God saying "and where were you when I created the world? Nowhere, so back off and shut up." Except he doesn't mean to shut up completely, which is what I've pretty much done. Its just, the only things I know how to say are "why?" and "when?"

The waiting and not knowing eat away at me. Thats why I've been up since 6am. My brain refuses to shut off, and the result is this verbal vomit that leaves me no further than I started.