Saturday, July 5, 2008

Impious

I’m having one of those questioning moments, where I wonder if I should just move back to Utah, get married, and produce babies. To this end was I born. These episodes come regularly, like some type of menstrual cycle minus the blood.

Usually, God sends me an answer to tide me over, but this time I can feel the impious me wanting to dig out and demand more. I want something tangible with finite borders that I can hold tightly without squeezing the air out of it. I pray that there really are answers, and that the only reason why I am not receiving them is that God does not want me to be more accountable.

When did I decide I was “destined for greatness”? My mind's mirage makes me appear different and sparkling. I do not desire comments on my physical appearance. Another platitude from a male would simply serve my self-justifications of covering my body in an extra layer of vengeance. I want a solution, a way out, the type of fact that clicks into place and lets my thoughts out of their cage.