"You can never wear those again," he said sternly as her tears fell next to her computer.
That's when it hit me. I'd broken everything that I'd ever worked for. Everything I ever dreamed like a little girl for. Every hope, every inspiration, every secret desire.
None of that can ever come.
I've been sick for the last few weeks. I stay home, sick with no literal illness, but guilt consumes me in every way possible. I tough it out to be normal, but throwing up a few times a day isn't the definition of healthy. It's not like I'm forcing myself. But I just start feeling ill, and I get this awful sensation in my stomach (like it's saying, "Look what you did, you stupid bitch, you ruined everything; I hate you so much."), and then I toss my -insert meal here-.
I deserve every ounce of sickness.
I knew a boy once who had a race car. One was red and one was blue. He loved his red racecar. He'd had it since he was quite little and it won all his races. His father brought him his blue one about a year before I met him, and he was getting to like it more and more. However, within the time frame that I knew him, his father accidentally put his new "favorite," blue race car out with the toys at a yard sale. He lost that toy. It got bought. I watched him run down the street and chase after the car, screaming and crying, wanting his blue car. Fortunately, the driver saw him running after him and stopped. I watched a small exchange with the boy and another child where he traded his car sold for a quarter for a crisp Lincoln. He came strolling home with dried tears, but a look of satisfaction that he could still have both cars. However, there was something he hadn't grasped yet. As he played more and more with his car, he stopped liking it. In fact, he noticed everything that was wrong with it. I watched him sit on the pavement outside and roll the car, pick it up and look it, and then give a hopeless look and keep playing. He knew that one wheel had a dent and didn't roll right, the inside was dusty, and one of the windows had a large scratch. More and more he took out his red car, loving it with his complete, innocent heart. I heard from another neighbor that he sold his blue car at the next yard sale their family had, graciously selling it to another child. He learned an important lesson. When you have something so good, don't try to replace it when it's still perfect. Don't fix it if it's not broken.
I was pondering why God made humans imperfect today. I don't think it's any of those theories about Him not being perfect or because He wanted humanity to suffer. No, He wanted us to be worthy. He created us with imperfection to see if we deserved to be in Heaven. Would we fight against humanities struggles, with inspiration from the Heavenly Father and Jesus, or would we fall to our temptations and imperfections?
I am human. I make mistakes. The Lord will forgive my sins if I am truly sorry. Unlike Claudius, I am truly sorry. In every way I have hurt those around me. I do not care for my own pain. I would walk through a thousand fires to help those in pain. I would do it for him. For my love.
'Breath of Satan on my skin,
kisses of angels in my hair.
Belittlement of the world
but blessings from Hope brings me alive.
Nothing changes,
only the world of invisiblity.'
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