A life left half behind, though no longer blind I can’t yet see.

I’m not the boy that I once was,but I’m not the man I’ll be…

~aaron wiess, mewithoutYou.

im not exactly sure when i became this mediocre, inauthentic bag of blood and bones.  i’m sure it was a slow process, had anyone been privy to watch it might have resembled an ice-sculpture’s half life.  dripping and ill-defined, resembling any number of things depending on the watcher’s mindset and frame of reference.  but i tried! oh how i tried to carry on, to seem sincere and faithful.

and i drip drip dripped on the floor, losing shape..

i met a man last night who’d just gotten out of prison, a seven year stint for a robbery; one of his friends had a gun and he took the hit for it in his own sentencing.  i was struck by how much he got off on interacting with people, just talking; i wrote it off as post-prison freedom.  turns out he was always that way.  always driven to try to help others, to connect with them and share their lives, for better or worse, regardless of personal consequence.

and i left a puddle where i’d been, larger than my current size…

talking with him last night, i realized that my relationship with god is not what it used to be, nor what i would like it to be.  more and more i’m finding not so much that i’m faking it to try to please others, but it’s definately fueled by the crowd i’m around more than it is by the love of jesus that used to burn so hot between my ribs.  whats worse, i think, is that im bothered more by what this means to my commitments and relationships with the people i love than i am by the state of my soul.

and the people, they called me a good man, full of love. drip.

im not sure i have a clear picture of what i was formed to be from the start; memories of my former self-perception, try as i might and wish upon the stars, i can’t trust those.  each day i’m feeling more fluid and less grounded, eroding deeper into mediocrity.  i know who i’d like to be and it’s very possible, but i lack motivation.  spread thin and starving, i find myself with the energy to read a novel a week but my eyes and mind cant seem to focus on a verse of scripture.

why do they call me good? no one is good but god alone… drip. drip drip.

i see it in myself, the desire to grab onto life and love and grace, but it’s weak. i need to find it something to eat or it will starve, die.  disappoint.