I'm trying very, very hard to not be angry.
I am afraid I am failing miserably.
I don't have time for this. The Boy will be going to his first prom on Saturday. I'm so incredibly excited for him. I'm working on a huge project that could be a tremendous benefit to the community. Or it could fail miserably. Life is good. Life is busy, but it is good.
And my heart and soul are tangled up in all your hurt and hate and bitterness.
I feel as though you robbed me of my childhood. I often feel I failed my childhood, miserably.
I am angry that I would allow you to rob me of that time. I often fear I am failing now, miserably.
I have no right to be angry. I'm no better than you. Some days I'm not much less crazier than you either. But when I am? I can see it all so clearly - all your pain and anguish and suffering. It so closely resembles my own. We all bear our crosses. How much heavier does mine grow for every angry wave that passes through my being?
There are no innocents here.
Mercy and grace, please save us.