believer

I feel a bit wobbly. Knees not working right. I feel tired. I feel eaten-away at. What's happening? My spirit feels wounded and disappointed. My life should not be led on my own. I should not be in control of my life, ever. I only end up slipping and barrel-rolling down the side of a hill, eventually becoming nauseous and sick and disoriented from the uncontrollable spinning. I don't want to be sunk. I don't want to feel like I am losing myself like this. I feel like my home is slowly being taken from me, slowly getting a step or two further from me, slowly losing its detail and its warmth. I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I traded my home for a cardboard box.

But I can always go home. It will always be MY home.

Oh, rest- come to me.

My name is Katie, and I am a ruiner, a wreckage of misplaced intentions, a submitter to pain and fear and dismay, a perceiver of intuitions and impressions, a deep feeler with little restraint. I am a worn-down lover, a peace-needing negligent prayer, a sensitive receiver of constant information and feedback, a daughter looking for the sunset through the cornfield, a soul both tortured and redeemed, a believer always struggling to believe.

My name is Katie, and I am a human.