My offensive nature

Pardon me.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry.

Please don't mind me.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Please, do pardon me, won't you?

How many times can I say it, and in how many ways?

Evidently not enough, and evidently I am not creative enough.

It doesn't matter, I suppose. I'm not going to change. I won't be who they want me to be. I won't claim to be a liar when I am not.

The truth I dared utter makes them squirm like slugs in salt, or like ants under a magnifying glass, so that just makes me a very, very undesirable creature - an unwanted thing. Nobody ever wanted to address the topic I brought up. It didn't matter that not addressing it was killing me. That didn't matter to them. Sacrificing me was all kosher to them, as long as it didn't mean disrupting their quiet little lives.

I get so tired of feeling like I'm stomping my feet and demanding attention.

No one is going to hear me.

It's exactly like screaming out into the blackness, only to hear the sound of my own voice echoing back at me.

No one is there.

So why do I keep doing it?

I don't know.

I want to quit. I really do. I just don't know how.

I'm fairly certain that nobody reads this. Even my husband doesn't read it. Who would? I just say the same things over and over.

I'm disappearing, I think.

I wouldn't mind, really.

I only hold on for my husband and kids. They're the only reason I bother to stay alive anymore. I've come to the uncomfortable conclusion that God, who I believe in without question, has stopped watching out for me, or has stopped holding me by the hand. I can't see any other reason behind the sorrow in my life. I believe in Jesus Christ. I know that he has suffered more greatly than I can ever imagine. But somehow that just doesn't bring me much consolation right now. I feel very distant from all that at this point. When the family I grew up in has betrayed me so heinously, and my parents are the very ones who have betrayed me most grievously - they being the ones who taught me the gospel itself, I suppose it would be unnatural for me not to be shaken to some extent. The interesting thing is that my belief in Christ and his gospel is not shaken at all. I'm just frustrated and confused at my level of grief, and the length at which I am asked to endure.

I don't know what God wants from me. I had a blessing not to long ago wherein I was told that God understood that I was frustrated with him. That was all. No words of comfort - just "Yeah, I can see why you would be bugged." Hmmm... What am I supposed to do with that?

I don't know.

So, I'm sorry.

Excuse me.

Pardon me.

People just get mad at me, no matter where I go, no matter what I do. I'm just that offensive, I guess. I think I'll just become a recluse. I'm not allowed to die, and my sheer nature is offensive to people. The only solution is to just crawl under a rock and live out the rest of my days.

If I happen to choose a rock you had plans for, well, please pardon me.

Excuse me.

Just let me know and I'll go someplace else.

I didn't mean to offend.