Dear self, I see you

Dear self, I see you in my cabinet pickin’ a jam and you rub it in my face and call me dirty, soiled, clumsy. I rush to the bathroom and the Jam wouldn't come off no matter how much I scrubbed. I come out shamefully. You laugh with a friend on the phone. Yes, I recognize that feeling, it was anger at the Jam and you. I sit on the couch, I'm still. You end the call and watch TV on the couch where I sat and you say nothing to me. You watch the News and that noisy Journalist won't stop talking until 5pm. I walk to the window, sorry, there was none. No windows, no doors just this fence around me and you. You move to me and whisper “stop hoping for windows doors and butterflies" a pause.." I want the door” I managed to say. You laugh again and claim you were the only door through which I could pass. I smirk, you are doorless, you have too many walls. You sniff and drink all evening and drink yourself to sleep yet you tell me you have a door? People with a door live, have a real God who saves and butterflies, I mean goodness and even if they stumble into sorrow, it's just for a little while and they escape into joy again. The vein of your neck twitches like it knows I was saying the truth but you turn plainly and go to sit at the dining with your powdered nonsense and bottle of haziness. “Can we pray, dear self ?" I muttered hopelessly where I stood. "Prayer ain't going to save anything" you blurted. At least we should try, I pester, but you looked numb and indifferent. “Do you believe in anything you can't touch feel or see?" You ask me “I don't know but I do know someone keeps the sky from crashing on our heads" I nod in agreement to my words myself. “Yeah whatever" you say and roll your eyes while sitting pensively in the chair. “We can pray tomorrow" I said retiring from the argument.

Tomorrow, I see you puffing out smoke from your lips. “You started smoking too?" I hung my jam messed face in shock. " Yeah, were both into this don't pretend” you almost yell. I put my hands in my pocket and begin to recount everything “ first it was that loss on Friday, we were together that morning. I swear, I could have died instead of her. I wished I never asked her to check who was at the door. I should have but I ran like a coward through the backdoor. I couldn't even bury her, I'm so miserable. It was a last chance you know. I messed it up and here, I'm hiding from an unknown killer. I quite believe I've killed myself while expecting the killer he was probably non-existent. I can't open a door, I see shadows and bullets and her face. I discovered the house was burnt down when I once went back to see if I could have a glimpse of her skeleton or rotten body. I saw none I had a dream where we were both on a bench. I was happy, I asked her where she had been. She smiled, handed me a rose and disappeared. She's a lover, a friend, a passerby that I made to stay”. I sniffle, pour myself a cup from your booze of wine. You offer me a cigar and I say no. After a deafening moment of silence you ask “what was the colour of the rose?" “White" I mutter “you know although I do not believe in God, I know he sends white things” "I think I believe he's kept me from death, I see death visit me every night in different forms, sometimes he brings pills, ropes, drinks, poison, machete, knife but everytime he comes so near, something chases him away. “What?” you ask. "I think it's God”. " Tah, stop speaking gibberish where was he when your friend was killed?" you finally yell. I stand up, drop the cup and move away from you. “Dear self, shall we pray?” “No" you replied still smoking. I move closer to the corner of the room, kneel and try to pray. My lips shook and tears fell ceaselessly. “God…” that was all I could say and I watched my soul drip all its sorrow on the carpet and my velvet dress. You look at me, you heave and got up from the couch to lay on the floor. “Would he hear if we even pray" you asked grimly. “ I'm sure he hears my tears" I reply you wiping my face and walking towards you. “We should pray, I saw this torn sheet from a bible in the store.” John 10:9. God says "I'm the door, by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out and find pasture” I look up from the sheet in my hand and you ask me " Did he really say that” " Yes” I reply mustering little confidence. I pick up a tissue on the table and clean my nose. “Can we pray together, I ask again" You nod. I move nearer and pull you up so you could sit then I hold your hands and we both shut our eyes and pray “Lord, be our door" “Amen". The two of us sit with a sudden calmness in our heart and after a few months, I was cleansed of Jam, a caterpillar crushed our fence and we saw light.

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