Price.

The price was already paid. It was enough. It covered everything. It protected the world. It should satisfy my soul but here I am closer to you then I have ever been and more alone then ever. Treated as an unruly child by the ones I thought I were fighting with me, now form their own team. Placating me with half spoken words and distant eyes. Using my loneliness to tear me down more. I've experienced this before. I've been marked before. I thought I could wash that mark off but it is my calling card. The unstable, crazy, too emotional, too much, too broken girl. Socially awkward and if they were honest not worth their time. Treated like "special china" brought out and used when needed but locked away and forgotten all the other days.

How often they praised and celebrated this in me but they can't see the deep hurt it causes, every single time. Shouldn't the price paid cover all this? None of it is what I expected.  It seems I would have been better suited to exist alone because really isn't that how I exist now? Alone but trapped by the illusions that I am not alone. Offered a piece of family and hope only to have it ripped from my hands. Then taunted by the ones holding that prize. "You're too cold" "You don't show enough feelings" "You show too many feelings" "You can't be trusted" "You can't handle it" "You're too broken" "You don't have the right skills" Always picked last. Never wanted as part of the team. Sitting just on the outside of it all.

Why is the price paid not covering this pain? Shouldn't I stand firm on you? Holding fast to the never ending hope offered. Loudly proclaiming that  all I need is you? I wonder if people that shout of those graces ever truly only had you? Have they felt this deep loneliness that makes someone fear the next day? Have they been tainted by true darkness that knows their most personal names. Have they spent hours crying only to be told their tears don't count as much? Have they actually lost all that was special and dear to them? Left with the coldness that comes from having the ones that claim their love for you turn their backs on you because your brand of pain is too confusing? I doubt it. Because when it's just you and me, Jesus, it's really just you and me.

The only solace is the lonely place in my heart because it's the only place that's real. The deepest level of isolation brought on by your hand. I was naive to believe that this part of me would vanish. It can't vanish because it's the only part of me you use. You humble me daily with the reminder that in my most desperate of times and broken places I will stand alone on this earth to learn how to stand in front of you. How desperately I wish for any other gift. What good is the lesson of being this alone? To look into eyes and always see the same reluctant pity. The same pulling away, To be smacked again in the face with the reminder that each time someone had to choose it wasn't me they picked.

The price paid said you picked me and that is all I need. What happens to the ones you offer that truth too. The ones that can't be understood. The ones that see past the smile and know the thoughts that are behind it. How do those of us that you have made real the cost survive? Because the pain is just getting more and more unbearable. Crushing me down. Separating me more and more.

The perfect price paid is enough to sustain me, save me, and give me grace. But the truth of this world is that nothing will truly heal me on this earth. Few will breathe these painful breaths. Many will assume they know but most will abandoned or leave. I only stand protected with you at the foot of the cross. Anywhere else the cold stinging pain will overtake. The truth of how alone I am will swallow me. All the days this ache will be there. The truth of how alone I am is my saving grace and reminder of your mercies made new. You allow my heart to be crushed and pain to eat away at my heart so that I can see you better. So that I can understand the cost of that price paid.

Ghost.

She seeks her solace in the comfort of the hard shower floor. There her tears are safe. Trapped and covered by the hot flowing water. Confined by the small space and allowed to exist and feel. She ceases to exist the second she leaves it. She becomes a ghost again. Unable to be. Unable to truly be a part of the world. Floating through these days. Never fully attached. A bothersome nuisance; unwanted but unable to disappear. Trapped here by an unseen hand.

 They hear her cries and wails. They see the destruction of her pain. They turn away though unsure of how to handle this creation. Little do they know how it was them that created this ghost. This former version of herself. Hallowed out and emptied of everything that had held her down. 

Her existence now floating about and breaking about and breaking off the last of her old self. A new creation but still attached to this world but cast out by it. Their eyes stare right through her. She once existed so strong and her feet held tight to the sturdy ground. She once had purpose and a path. 

She once existed.

 Now she can even see through herself. She can see the inner parts of herself and doesn't like what she sees. The ugly hate filled parts. The self that she relies on to protect her own heart. The deep cut of cynicism that allows her to escape. For her the weights of the world hold her here and break her apart. The constant attack on her mind and heart kills her. 

No one on this earth can help her. No one here can see the damage. The people around her only know she exists but don't understand where she belongs. So they pass her by, concerned by her cries, fearful of her wailing, and unaware of how deep her pain is. It's a cruel and wary place to exist. To be the ghost of herself.

 How can this be? How can she have come so far from where she started only to fall back to where she had begun? She had been a ghost before. She had been made whole and complete. Filled to overflowing and solid. The anger of how she is again here shakes her. Why would this girl be given a taste of freedom if the plan was to put her shackles back on? Why would she be made part of this world if the plan was to strip her of it? 

This seems like the purpose of her life. The constant temptation of earthly comforts to be met with the delusion of false hope. Met firmly in the heart with the reality of how broken it all is. Forced to see it, taste it, and hear it. Unable to touch it or exist in it. 

Marked by her Savior as one that can't exist here but attached to this world. 

What will become of this forgotten and alone ghost? This is where she will always be because it is where she has always been. Seeking her solace in the moments she can escape. Finding it only when she is alone. On the cold floors and tiny spaces of this world so that her empty self can find pieces of hope and freedom.

She is a ghost. Untouchable. Her fate already sealed, promised, and delivered. She will take these steps alone. Floating through the broken paths and cut up roads. Feeling the pains and dying each day. Saved though by her ghost like existence because that's who she was made to be. Saved in her drowning pain and met by the Savior in the tears and loneliness. 

She is a ghost but she attached to His hand.

Piece.

All the words are jumbled up. The feelings beginning and ending together. The tears flow from deep within. From a place I cannot name and do not know. 

This place inside me crawls out of my deepest parts. The place that I fall apart alone with you. Where only you can see me. The softest part of my heart and mind exist. The place where I am my most weak. Where your voice is the only one I hear. This is the place I die. Every day. The only place you can save me. 

I've spent every moment of my life hiding this place. Only to have you rip me apart and expose it. You use it for your glory. My pride a causality of this fight. That's why I am so mad, isn't it? You took me apart, in front of others, let them see a part of this place inside. 

I spent years protecting it, a lifetime. Perfectly cultivating how much I would show. 

Then you and I crashed into each other. You tore me open so I stood without cover. I thought it was for a certain path or reason but that path is now closed. Now that girl is gone. That child that could hide as easily as she could breathe no longer controls me.

You exposed the liar in me and replaced it with Truth. But for what? That's the part that is burning me with anger. Little specks of indifference growing. The black cut across my heart scrabbling to gain more territory. That person that died frantically trying to rise because my mind is convinced you did this, out of spite. 

Built me up to let me fall. After all isn't that what all of this is worth? No one left on my team. No one left to stand beside me. Each day, week, and month I have lost more and more. The stability I am positive you allowed and created now broken and in shambles. 

Is this a game? Was it all for your amusement? Did you enjoy my falling apart? The blood poured out and the unending tears? Was it worth it? 

Blindsided by the destruction and left grasping at the edges of everything that was safe. Everything that was home. More and more, taken and gone. I have lost so much through my years but more you 

take. More you ask me to give. 

The broken up hands that hold on so desperately are trying to hold onto anything I can grasp, still you ask for more.
"Uncurl your hands child. Let me have that piece too." 
I can't give it up. I can't loose this piece, Jesus. Let me keep this one. Even as it burns into my flesh and scars my hands because it is no longer mine I don't let go. 

You stand before me with outreached hands expectantly waiting. This impasse between you and me doesn't seem to be ending. I'm just falling apart more and more. Being mocked by own voices. The mirror I stand before and battle my demons. The demons are my own words. 

I can't let go of this piece because this piece is me, God.  It's me your asking to take. Round and round we go. Circling around until we come to this place again. My hands covered in blood from my wounds. Your hands waiting patiently. Jesus I don't know if I can let go. I don't know if I can give up this piece.

 All these tears and pains but no relief. All that is left is the pain. 

You, me, and the pain.