3/12/2018

My eyes opened, and I sat upright, quickly finding myself drenched in sweat. I'd slept restlessly, even more tired now than I was before. The night and I used to be dear friends, but I suppose every friendship grows bitter in the end. I looked around, trying to get a sense of where I was. The dreams tended to scramble my memories for some reason. I didn't appreciate that.

I laid my head back onto my pillow, but my eyes did not close. I'm home, I told myself, as if this was supposed to assure me that everything was fine. Was it, though? For the past few months, nothing felt right. Something was...off. Missing. But no matter how many hours I lay in bed, straining my mind to figure out what was wrong, I could find no answers—all I achieved was a sense of loneliness and sorrow.

A tear ran down my face. Oh, I'm sad now. Why was I sad? Why was I always sad? I wasn't fond of sad. What had sad ever done for me? Nothing but take my happiness away. And now I wanted it back.

I clapped my hands over my face and breathed a ragged sigh. "Please, Lord," I whispered into the darkness, "heal my broken heart. Mend my broken spirit. I need You."

A sense of comfort seemed to wash over me. I grabbed onto that feeling and held onto it. It was as though, despite my overwhelming sense of despair, a warm hand laid on my shoulder and a soft voice whispered, "Everything is going to be okay."

Finally, I closed my eyes, rolling onto my side and sighing once more, this time with pleasure. As I drifted off into the realm of slumber, two gentle words passed over my lips: "Thank you." And then all was still.