I have experienced recent crushing defeat. No one loves a revolutionary.
I thought, ignorantly, that I could make a difference as the little man, unexperienced, but with enough foresight to see that something needed fixing, and I couldn't. I faced the big man, and I was cast down, almost losing my livelihood over it. And all I have to say is: What the hell.
I've wanted to make a difference, and instead I'm on the verge of leaving, my hands clutching my chest as it's hard to breathe, my despair is so deep. I'm so conflicted with the desire to make changes, but I have to resist the urge to speak up, and it's like an immovable object is hit by an unstoppable force, the conflict of my soul. Where is direction? What is purpose? Where are the good things? What am I supposed to do? I've been lost since I left the service of the Lord. Hopping from school to school, different jobs, different living arrangements, relationships, looking, searching. I haven't found me yet. I thought I had a handle on it, but I don't know what defines me. Maybe that's our great journey, that's why it takes 80 years for some folk to find things. Maybe that's why I didn't die at birth. Because I haven't found myself yet. I'm running out of time, only 60 years left.
