At some point you'll want to walk in the pouring rain, hoping it washes the stench of failure from your skin. You'll cry to yourself asking how this could happen and why life is so cruel. So relentless. So awful. You'll fall short and not know how. You'll go through seasons of unhappiness and anxiety because life isn't working in your favor. You'll scrub your body to the core, hoping it'd scale away the pain you feel every waking minute.
At some point you'll reach out to those that were closest to you and you'll hear silence in return. They won't be there. They won't respond. They'll be battling a fight of their own. Their hands will be too full carrying their own boulder-sized burdens, to offer to carry yours. You'll be alone. You'll feel stuck. You'll remain outside in the rain for a little while longer because you're certain the water splashing on your face will wake you up from the nightmare you're living. But it won't.
At some point you will fail. You will fall short. You will mess up.
You'll make the wrong decision and suffer consequences you'd never thought could exist. You'll ask for forgiveness and will be the recipient of cold shoulders and ugly stares. But, you'll press on. Because protecting yourself from falling deeper has become the most important part of your trial-ridden life.
At some point your days will blend with one another because you don't have the strength to sleep, or stay awake. The hours passing won't matter, and neither will the days. You'll sit and stare at the wall wondering how your existence became this exhausting. You'll wonder who, what, where, when and how the hell you'll get yourself out of this place. This dark stormy place.
Because life has a way of leaving you bloodied in the alleyway, screaming for help, clutching on to life. It has a way of snatching you up and spitting you out. Life has a way of bruising your spirit and your ego like an abusive relationship you can't seem to escape. You'll want to escape. You'll try to think of different ways to rid yourself from the pain, because you've noticed the rain isn't rinsing the look of depression off your face, like you hoped. It's not washing away the pain, like you thought it would.
At some point, life will hit you hard enough to steal the breath from your chest. It will kick you while you're gasping for air. It'll burn. It'll cut. It will sting. And at some point you'll feel that. It won't be always and it may not be consistent, but it will come. It'll shake you up and send chills down your spine.
And at some point I won't know what to say; no one will. There won't be anything inspirational enough to ease your pain. Profound words and back rubs just won't do the trick. You'll recite all the Bible scriptures you know and review Sunday sermon notes for clarity, but that won't hit your spirit quick enough for you. At some point you will fail. You will fall. You will be worn down and tore up. You will be sad. Disheveled. You will need help. Need prayers. Need guidance. Need God.
Because kind words can't protect you from everything; and they certainly won't protect you from life. No motivation can keep you from falling flat on your face at the punches it decides to throw. It'll happen, and you won't be prepared. But you will endure, because that's all that you can do. Fight life back and hit it with the same left hook it first attacked you with. Chew it up and spit it out, like it did you in that alleyway. Yell back at it. Scratch it. Leave it merciless.
Because kind words won't ever provide enough protection from the battle you will endure. But your fight will.
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