I have fallen. Fallen to a point to a point where I ask, "God please reach out to me and pull me up." I still dwell in the hole of life which I created. Yet I am too stubborn to ask for help until I can't get out again. How much must I fall? How much must I keep learning before I can move forward? My life seems to be torn from end to end. The very people I love and reach out to can't feel me right now. My heart is broken. Heart is severed in pieces because of the opened acts of free will. How do we know what is best for us? Are we the ones who figure it out or just have enough sense to listen to God's will when things happen? How does life hurt so much but yet yield no understanding?

It brings out the sinful nature of our souls. It binds us and coils around us until the world sees the grace which we get from God. Grace that is undeserving but given to us freely by God. As he looks upon us he does not see the scarlet sin painted on our bodies but the light of His son's face peering at him from the cross.

Yet, I have fallen. Fallen to the worlds sin today and everyday. Some sin which I can control. Others are sin in which I have to break the cursed habit that drowns me in this world. Day by day I place a prayer for guidance and strength. I am a sinner for the world to cast their stones on. I bow marked by man with the chalice reigns of forgiveness. I raise up to realize I will never be a man of full completeness. I must search each day for the whisper of God. Sometimes I am too closed off to hear it or too anxious to deliver my own words of wisdom. There it is again placing His will last because I feel the bile coming out of my mouth is more important. When will I ever realize the complications of this world only hinder on the mere fact that I dwell on the negative? Instead, I should be looking to the light of the day as a gift from God. Each day I awake is a day he has blessed me with. I see nothing sometimes to my amusement. Nothing that capture my eye of His creation. Other days, I see the whole world pressed around me like a painting carefully marked up with stroke after stroke.