So I'll write a verbal sketch and hope to give you at least part of the picture. Perhaps an idea of the inner-workings.
Have you heard the words "patience" and "longing" come from between my teeth? If you lived on my pages or in my nerve endings, they would be familiar words to you. But why? Why can't they be replaced with "contentment" and "joy"?
I have the greatest love and still I long to be loved. The Maker of the multiverse (or whatever this is where we live) never lets go of me, still I long to be held. I want a tangible love though His love can be felt in the smallest of feelings. My heart breaks and I long to be made whole, though I know He is working. I have nothing to do and the world is waiting on me. And I'm just waiting for something to happen. I'm waiting for this life to make sense.
I feel like my days are waisted inside the prison of my mind and no one can help me escape. No one but myself. If I don't leave, how can I expect to get to know others for who they are? I have been around myself too long. Still, I must learn to be content with being around only me. How can I be comfortable with another if I cannot be comfortable with myself?
The problem is, I think, I am too comfortable around myself. I don't have to be around anyone else. Then, I long to be around others and it is as though I have forgotten how that works. Anxiety shakes from the inside and nothing moves on the outside. I want to be with someone else and when I am, I just can't.
My life spins in spirals but I can't tell if I'm going up or down. Who will save this one? Most of the time the tornado is just my life flushing away. Some days, or brief moments, though I feel strong winds of positive emotion. And I know I cannot let emotions control my life or my feelings. When how I feel is controlled by when I feel then I cannot trust this life to be real. Something along those lines.
Perhaps my life is a picture made of dots. Some to be connected to each other. Some to be seen from afar in order to understand more fully the complete picture. And some just need to be left alone. "Don't edit me," my mind says, "credit me." "Don't read and run; read and tell me what you've done."
I want to know that I matter though I know I do matter. I want to know that I'm more than some matter, floating around outside Saturn. I know that I'm cherished, I'm loved, I'm worth something, but I cannot always feel it. Is it that I need to feel it from this earth? Is it that I'm looking for acceptance among the broken? Am I looking to be put back together by one whose pieces are as tattered as my own? How is it that the greatest love doesn't seem enough and yet mere acceptance from another almost seems to keep my heart beating?
If you understand what I'm saying or have words to add to connect the dots which need connecting, please tell me. Please show me how words from a sponge fall onto ears that can read. Thank you.