I’ve wanted to write. Oh, how I wanted to write. To spill out the stunned me. To gather the torn me. How for 28 years I’ve been so sheltered in my thoughts, I’ll always be baffled. This world zaps me every single time. The outward working of the wicked inward dwarf will never cease to provoke hatred in me, even when it’s my own flesh that’s in question. It starts from the outer most sphere of what I only hear. This was done, that happened to him, she did this to them. I nod but I haven’t fully accepted it. It’s far beyond my experience and knowledge and so I am not a rightful comrade to empathize. The orbit draws in closer and it’s what I see. Mothers leaving their child, people being abused, animals being tortured. This makes my skin crawl. It starts lighting a fire of hatred for a world where we’re blinded by our own darkness. Pretentiously walking around as if we were born good and they are bad. Judging a person by the fabric they wear while being the face for this “right” and that. Nothing is logical. Truly, have we ever truly forgiven? Has anyone truly forgiven us? Have we looked within ourselves to see how dark our thoughts are? We may feel for a certain percentage of what makes this world but are we sensitive to ourselves? Every thought is marred with an intention unrighteous and motive selfish. I hate my flesh. Yes, I am at war with the darkness within me. I cringe when I’m told that Im a good mother. I did nothing to make her. To form her being or to make her grow. What liberty do I have to take credit for a responsibility given as a gift to me- an undeserved bonus that came with a life which in itself is not one I deserved. When awareness reaches a certain level, the sphere reaches me. The atom jumps and hits me right between the heart. My heart’s utmost desire in this life breaks apart and it’s not in my control. I’m betrayed by parts of this desire until I kick the sand and lie down still. I would never have imagined! A layer of me, the onion, has peeled away. I look up and the shelter is smaller to fit a smaller me. Until, you’re ready, Dechen- Forgive what’s gone because I’ve forgiven you.