I lost him again... So many times, irritated I'd spit my words... "Logan go away! You're driving me crazy!" Now my soul screams for him to stay... Silently begging, praying my soul will somehow reach out to communicate with his... To let him know, to feel how much I love him. How much I miss him. How much I would give anything, everything... just to go back in time and choke down those words every time I let them fall from my lips.
He's my son. He's grown so tall, so handsome and so heartbreakingly distant. I helped shape him, create him... I am his mother. He grew inside me and I loved him from the start. I protected him, I nurtured him, I taught him... and I let him go.
Two years after my decision to find happiness in love, I lost my son. He was stolen from me. As I chased after my soul that was captured by a man I fail to please... The wolves crept in and stole my son. I wasn't watching... I didn't expect it... I'd been too trusting. Now I cannot win him back. No amount of begging or tears... nothing will win him back. If only I could undo all those words... all those times I shoved him away. If only...
I thought I had been a good mother before... It's only been these last few years that I have faltered... Or has it? Was I ever a good mother? Was I ever good? I used to believe I was. I used to want nothing more in this life than to do good... to do right. Yet I falter... I fail... I set out thinking with my whole heart that my latest venture of passion is just and true... But in the end... here I sit... alone... Forsaken.
In time my story will spill out here. I have to type it now. I cannot journal as I used to. My hands are sick and to hold a pen and scrawl across the page would mean numb hands and unending pain as I lay down to sleep. That is if I can sleep...
All the sadness... the regret and worry... the anxiety... the pain... the anger... They all consume me. They steal my rest... Sleep is no longer a peaceful solace for me. It's a dark moment covering my soul each time it finds me. Wakefulness is no better a friend.
Is this really how a life of striving to do right ends? Is this really all there is left for me? Will all the joy and blessings I brought to this world be forever forgotten? Why does this world hold only me accountable as it also falters? Should we not all be condemned equally or pardoned the same? Why is my standard of measure so much more extreme? Why?
