Saturday

I believe there is no magic in my life, because I have no faith in anything. I close my eyes and all I see is darkness. There are three orbs, swirling around each other, like a giant atom. Each one flashing images like crystal balls. Underneath is a large deep bowl, cracked and broken, draining its contents onto the darkened floor. My broken heart, unable to hold a feeling or a hope..

I never hear voices or callings. Not the way some people say they do. Not even in the way other people say they do. I am neither faithful nor crazy. I simply don’t hear anything. I don’t feel anything. I have no direction. I have no guidance. I make foolhardy decisions because I don’t know what else to do.

I had heard a story once of a religious man feeling a pain, behind his ribs, real pain that seized him. And then nothing. He couldn’t explain it, but he suddenly no longer believed in God. The faith just shut off, like switching off the blasting television. Just silence. He ended up going on a personal journey, to find himself, to renew his faith. In the end, he completed his journey, returning home, never having found his faith.

It is not to say that I don’t want to believe in something. I want to believe in something so deeply. But the more I reach down, the more I feel nothing. There is no magic in my life. There is only me. Every decision is me. Every success is because I worked. Every failing is my own mess up. I can only hold myself accountable.

And it terrifies me to feel so completely alone as I do…

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