If you asked me what I see when I look at you, I’d stifle an awkward smile and cast downward eyes. A little boy lost amongst the trees—a forest of expectation, temptation you so desperately crave could never quite reach anyone’s ears.
This snippet was part of a poem I wrote long ago, and I remember you asking me whether it was about you. It wasn’t, but somehow, the words and the sentiments seem to hold true. It seems to be about you even though… it’s not. It was about a lost boy who drifted further from the light, into the thicket of a dark forest. I guessed you followed suit.
It’s been a while since I’ve spoken to you and I sometimes wonder how you’re doing. I check in on you the only way I know how; by listening to the songs you make, and I just think they’re so depressing. Though, I suppose it’s very on brand for you. All of your songs are a consistent colour—they’re grey and dark and fixate on the brokenness you love so much. But every now and then, I’d see a glimpse of colour; like spheres of champagne-coloured light floating up to the sky.
Like the dark veins that run through marble grey counters, it’s like you inject the sordidness of the world into you to feel alive. You complain about where you are in life, seemingly dissatisfied about your circumstances, so you try to change for little while, but you just give up too easily. I guess… the voices in your head are too loud.
And I could probably write an essay about how unhappy it made me watching you go through the same things—clinging to your brokenness and not being able to see beyond it, but what would it achieve? There’s no point in being angry or even thinking about these things, because I know you meant no harm to me and I know you’re still battling demons.
It makes me sad to think you’re still scrambling for answers and I really hope you can find your way out of all the muddled thoughts you have. But most of all, my hope is that one day, you can trust Jesus and let Him in.
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