“I have never truly felt as though I've belonged to this world,” I tell myself, “This is what is destined for me, the moment my life has encouraged and has been building up to.
This is the climax to the motion picture called my life of which will receive a round of applause from the audience when the curtains close for the last time.”
They will all say they loved the film and give it raved reviews once it’s over, right? My life will be revered as a masterpiece, won’t it?
This is what I have to do. Destiny calls for it. “Break a leg!” they say. I am ready for this. All eyes are on me.
I scream and yell and shout and my body becomes numb.
Separation is best in describing the current relations between my physical being and my inner soul.
It is as if I have transcended into a supernatural realm or universe.
Is this it? Could it be? Am I free?
Has my Merciful Jesus saved me from my world of pain and hurt and discomfort? Is it over? Is this end truly definite or is it a surreal dream that of which I will wake up from any minute now?
No. No. This is not a show. This is real.
I feel my fists clench into tiny balls and my toes crinkle until they've curled under my feet at the thought of this realness. I am at the worst level of discomfort and I want out.
I hear no applause from the audience.
I realize it was not the destiny of my life but a decision of my personal being. I chose it and it didn't choose me. The decision was mine. The decision was final.
What’s done has been done.
It was not a means to an end but an end in itself.