Every word I wrote of you I regretted. Every darkest pit of myself came rushing through opened doors. There were no doors. I was in that pit of ___. How am I supposed to see you as light, how am I supposed to keep my eyes open to the dark, to shut myself away from the wrong and yet still seek to shine through it. How is it so easy to feel so tainted to be overwhelmed by not even flesh but hatred and angst and disgust and sadness. We are so wretched. A dark film cast itself upon my eyes as I looked onto this world in disgust. As I was still as loud and clear but let each syllable I utter be poison and bitter. I wanted to go away. I wanted all of this to not be. Bill Johnson’s words ringing in my mind “We don’t lose the ability to sin, we only use the ability to enjoy it”, how You are put in an environment to make all the bad things come to surface but you get confused about these things coming out and think they are you and your identity gets lost in them. All these things are coming out. Westmont has a knack for revealing the worst in people. I told friends I hate what Santa Barbara does to me. I hate who it makes me. Why is it so difficult to shine light?
I feel cold and frigid. I don’t feel blood and sparkles flowing through me. My heart is weighed down. This morning I was vertiginously re-experiencing the lava and ice and blood spatter on the walls and trampling with spikes and wood pegs. I wanted to be physically feeling what I was feeling emotionally. I let my words shout out to people. Recognizing that the more confident me’s negativity definitely impacts even more than the hidden spite whisperer. I saw the looks on peoples faces as I spoke, easily disguising my rants under the Anarchist character I play in this class, but still taking it to a level not comfortable or acceptable for especially Westmont students. This me is the me that would want to fight people on the street like a stupid rooster puffing its chest out, ranting of blood and cuts just so as to not to whimper in pain of having no balls. The me that doesn’t give a shit about how people look, especially if they are off put or shocked. The me that doesn’t want anyone. Because everyone is darkness and me most of all. “That’s just him, its’ a reflection”. I let myself be a mirror and not a light and I let myself connect with this. I am not a glass mirror I’m a chameleon. I will reflect you and embody it. This is who you see yourself is. It hurts so much more to think that. It hurts so much to understand what you mean by saying your soul is lsot and its too late. Because I am a couple hours into poorly copied shoes and I cant stand it.
I want to be a bearer of truth.
I want to shine light and be light and for it to embody me.
I had lunch with the new Dean of students. I didn’t not want to I just didn’t know how to talk about how I love Westmont and how I see something good to come when I feel this deeply low in darkness. I recognized while in prayer with my roommate that this is exactly why I need to speak with her. Perhaps if she is empathetic enough she’ll feel my pain. She’ll see what not only I but so many struggle with here. To be light but to let every part of yourself come into the temple of your soul. She did see I’m not sure she saw my vision as it was probably pegged too deep of her vision of a presently tortured girl but I said what I had to say. About Darkness. About the Need for Light. Community. Truth. Safe Space.
Now I see myself emerging from the waters. I don’t know if this is what I was to do. I will let it sit and wait on you. Do not abandon me now as I cry to you. Surround me with truth and words of wisdom. With clarity and words of love. With strength and words that pierce through the darkness and bring us to the Light.
I am a Daughter of Light you aint got nothing on me
Pray for grace and sweet lovingkindness on my behalf. For peace and love to come through my actions and especially my words.