The sight of men

It gets really hard to see how quiet we've all become, raging, consumed by the battles we fight inside yet silent in the face of men. There are so many things that I would do, if I could, to make things a little better. The desperate situations slightly brighter. I would trade anything for you to have a brief respite, no cost is too much for the smile of a friend. It burns me to see you hurt, but I will never speak, and you shan't too. All I will send is a prayer and a host of angels to see you through it all.

I only keep dreaming of you, and I know that I still love you. After all this time.

But this is life. Everyone moves on.

Everyone, except me.

I miss school. The memories it hold, happy and achingly painful. I wish I wasn't as depressed as I was in college, life now would undoubtedly be different. Perhaps I would have bothered talking to more people, tried harder to make a few more friends, been another man. 

I miss the challenge of being under a difficult circumstance. You could say I miss the searing heartburns, the tears unwillingly shed, the perseverance that one moulds in the worst of times. Army life is devoid of any real mental challenges. The army, or maybe just my unit, isn't half as tough as my sec sch cca was. Whatever the commanders might shout and scream, it's hard for me to forget that they truly have our concerns in their heart. Turbulent times were the whetting stone that kept my spirit sharp, and now it is blunt from neglect, worn out for the worse. 

I miss my cell groups. I attended 3 weekly in college, and now I cannot make the time for even one. Having my spiritual life choked and constricted by ever mundane army activities is frustrating to say the least. I miss Purpose, and Works. 

I miss you, even after these years. That dull ache that never fades, never abates. There you'll stay, I suspect, forever. I wonder if you ever recall and reminisce, if your finger ever strayed over my name before you decide not to message. Because I do, and some days it kills me so.

Meaningless existence, this is.

you light up my world.

Jesus be the centre of it all.

what exactly am i supposed to tell you?


i don't know what i can possibly say that wouldn't hurt you, and it's funny i even care about that.

strangely empty, this vessel.