These are some words I found written by my younger self, as I delve into old letters and journals. What a trip. The dark, secret, places of our soul are so much better expiated.

17.06.2012

“The presence of my exposed heart, bleeding, pumping blood on the furniture, raw; it scares you. I am messy. My emotions don’t come in pre-packaged labelled boxes. There is not a daily dose of me to be pressed out of a pill dispenser; I want to throw the pill dispenser up against the wall and watch the hundreds of tiny coloured pieces form rainbows and mess against the ground. I sometimes want to go into the bush and scream. I want to scream and cry and in my tears feel that there could be love. In my self-hatred and disgust feel that there is more. That I am more. I want to taste the black slime of my guilt and shame. Feel it rise in my throat like knives and run my tongue along its cutting forms. I want God to show me that in all His glory He can fill these deep gashes and gaping wounds with his Love. I want to take a walk with God over the undulating, rocky, and tumultuous terrain of my soul. We will wear no shoes and we will feel the ground beneath our feet. God will put Her hand on my shoulder and say “stop, here.” And together we will stop. Together we will look at the damaged, bloodstained wounded hole. I will cry, I will grieve for this injured and destructive part of myself. God will feel only love. Together we will fill up this hole, carefully pouring Love into it, “keep going”, until the once wounded becomes healed, the once broken is restored to its natural state; transformed. This is what I desire, to walk with God across my soul. No less.”