i replied you.
finally, you must've thought.




... as much as i imagine you sweeping me off my feet and flying me off to an isolated island to foreverness...




you know as much as i know
that it's just impossible.




strangely,
the thought of impossibility did not bring about sadness, but relief.

like that when Jesus hung on the cross,
calling out, "Father, into your hands i commit my spirit,"
and thereafter breathed His last.

the pain, the courage, the sense of relief.




...even though i know the amount of pain i'm going through shrivels in comparison to that of Jesus.









so, would you just let me be normal again?