A Broken Spirit

It’s two AM, three – I don’t know. I’m in agony. I want to scream. I’m crying, sobbing over a lonely life and now a lonely death. I cannot go on.

Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord… but You don’t answer. Maybe You’ve forsaken me; maybe You’re not there. Why do You not speak?

There are my pills – enough, more than enough. I wash them down, as many as I can. They make me dizzy and weak. I lie down. I fade out.

No one will note my passing. I’ll stop coming to work. Someone will shrug, remove my name from payroll, and move on as though I’d never been.

I waken in my bed. My body folds, convulsing, forcing the air from my lungs. I can’t breathe. I fade out.

I waken in a silent, dark room. Before me is a gently illuminated crucifix. Is this death? I fade out.

I waken to the soft sounds of machinery – a pump; a quiet beep keeps time with my twitching, feeble heart. I’m tied to the bed so that convulsions don’t throw me to the floor. I’m in intensive care. I fade out.

For a week I fade in and out, my survival in doubt. The doctors and machines fight to save my life, and damn them, they win. They save my worthless life.

I’m trapped in a burning building, desperate to escape the flames. I want to jump, but cannot break free of the merciless fire. Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Thy lovingkindness

But God is silent. He leaves me screaming amid the flames.

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