November remembered.

This letter is for you.

It has been a year since I had the dream, the one I cursed at first. The one I raged and tore and swore against. Those first 3 days just about killed me. Acceptance is a strange thing. You know you are clearly insane, have lost what makes you logical, but the knowing that lodged itself, quite deeply in your heart, will not allow your brain to override it. I have struggled to understand it, this knowing that brought great changes. I sometimes am quite certain that someone must hate me, that I must have done something awful in my past life to be haunted with this deep commitment to something I cannot honestly explain to myself. If I cannot understand it how could I even venture to explain it to others who will not be hesitant in calling me a nut?

I long to put down my burden, but the knowing will not let me. I have grown resigned to picking at the sore that is my heart. I seek and wait, cause it is all I can do.

Other times, the joy of discovery makes me weep like a baby, makes me long to tell the whole world just how lucky I am. I look forward and hope my vision is true, that I have not misunderstood what I have been given or promised by time. There is only one way to find out and that takes faith. Lots and lots of faith. Sometimes I am afraid my faith is hollow, that I am hoping for things that I should not be. I have to be strong and believe in this happy thought that carries me through. It will come. I just have to believe that what I have seen is not insanity, but truth. God help me, I believe.


Published by Bexley Benton. (Pen name)

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog.

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