The Scream.

I want to scream.

SCREAM. 

I want to bag up all my misery, all those memories tainted and iron sharp, and drag them behind me upwards the steepest hilltop. I want to claw forward in the cold, the cold of all those things I’ve hated for too long now, and push forth, my breath hot with anger, blowing against the metallic chill of this intensity, this rage climb, my heart beat pounding inside the organic warmth of my chest. And when I get there, to the top of that jagged hill, fingers black and blue, hair whipping across my red cheeks, I breathe a deep and full breath. The coolness filling my lungs, as if it were winter, and begin to peer into the darkness of the pit below. The murky deep nothingness, to gather that bag tightly in my hand, wrapping it around my white fingers, and hurl it off the cliffs edge, heavy and strong.

To watch it fall, tangible and helpless. Into the dark. Gone. Lost. Forever.

From the pit of my stomach, with everything I have, I want to scream from that highest point. From that highest point, and deep down into those lowest of depths. Scream until my throat is raw and red, until the words fall out as crippled wisps of breath, tapering off into dead ash, and landing at that bottom of nothingness. I want to scream because….I’m tired of crying, and let’s face it. I’m angry as hell. 

I want to hit, and kick and punch, and tear away at all the hurt. At the pictures in my head, memories made tangible, and blown to pieces. To rip at it, to kill and destroy it with my bare hands, until my knuckles bleed. Until the ghosts are gone. Until I’m too tired to do it anymore, and I fall down, landing perfectly at God’s feet. For it is His love, and only His love that can cure the pain I feel. That can cover my past with a salve so healing, so deep, that not only will the hurt fade away, but the thing that was meant to kill me, will turn into the thing that sets me free.

Under all that anger, under all that pain, that’s what I truly believe.

Even when I’m crawling around in my own gutter, Jesus is there with me, getting his knees dirty.

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