This is truly my darkest hour.
I need someone so badly. I need them in a way that I can't have them; no one can meet the need that I have right now. I don't even know precisely what it is, what it's shaped like, what it looks like... But I know, for certain, what it feels like.

I need my God. My Savior.
But I shut Him out.
I forbade Him to enter.
I made Him leave.
And now I don't know how to get Him back.

I will never be the same. I can never go back.
I want to crawl in a hole somewhere... somewhere that no one can find me. Where they wouldn't even look.
But then, God couldn't find me either. At times, that's what I want. I don't want God to find me out. But He already knows.
And He loves me anyway. Hallelujah- He still loves me.

I want a swing. Not a tire swing or rope swing, but a real swing, with a board hung by two chains. Two long chains- the long-chained swings go the highest, you know. I want a swing, and a week. A week to swing. Back and forth. To somehow tell myself that I never did that. That nothing bad ever happened. To work out a deal with God. God doesn't deal. He doesn't make compromises. It's all or nothing.

Praise His holiness! From the highest peak to the lowest valley of sin, praise be unto the name of Jehovah, Yahweh, Yeshua, I AM, and all His other aliases. He uses different names, you know. Because they mean different things at different times. He teaches us that way- by calling Himself something different, He shows us a new facet of His personality. God doesn't really have a personality; to me, when a person has a personality, they HAVE some qualities, and DON'T HAVE other qualities. Describing someone's personality is a comparative statement. "Compared to Joe, Randy is compassionate."
But God doesn't have a personality. He cannot be compared. Compared to Joe, God is... so incredible that Joe's existence ceases, and God's face is magnified.
In this way, God doesn't have a personality. Because He has ALL the traits. The good ones.

My sins will catch up to me. I feat they will. I knew they would. But I told myself they wouldn't- and I believed me.

I put my hope in the wrong thing. I put my hope in things that I can do. I hope that in Alaska, I find God again. That I grow spiritually. That I become a different man. Even a man at all. For what I am is not a man, but some sort of boyish defect. Right now, I am defective.
On the drive home, I wished that there was someplace I could go to be decommissioned. To be turned off. I want to be deactivated by someone that is more righteous. So that I may not hurt God any more. I am tired of hurting God.

But then I realized; I thought, "Yes, it would be nice to be turned off fro life, to sin no more. But how much better is it to accept God's grace? How much better to accept forgiveness? How much better to continue living, as though sin hadn't happened?"
How much better indeed. God loves me. I will never understand why.
I cheated on God.
We were watching a TV show today, I don't know what it was. Yes, I do, it was Boy Meets World. Topenga's parents had split up, because her dad had found a woman on the side.
And I thought, "How awful. How dreadful. To make that woman, the wife, feel that way. To make her feel unworthy. To make her feel insufficient. To make her feel unwanted."
Then, as I was driving in my car hours later, I realized that this is just what I have done to God. I had an affair with myself and sin, rather than loving only Him. I made Him feel unworthy, insufficient, and unwanted.

Some things in life are better left unsaid. Some things are better left under the rug. Some skeletons are better left in the closet. Far back in the closet, where you find Christmas presents and Danny.
You know the funny thing though? God is in that part of the closet as well. He was standing there when you opened the door and stuffed the skeleton in. He watched you. I think I overheard Him say, "Wow, I wish you didn't have this skeleton. I wish you hadn't done this." And I think I said back, "Oh, it's nothing I can't handle. I need help, but it's no big deal. Not even an entire skeleton... more like, just a femur or two."
Because everyone has that skeleton. Nearly everyone anyway.
But they don't.
Everyone else's skeleton is normal.
But mine is diseased. The bones are twisted, yellowed, and weak.

Cryptic? That's me.
If life itself wasn't so cryptic, maybe I wouldn't be.
What I wrote makes sense to me.
Goodnight.