I remained in my room for some time, contemplating the message, and the odds of its having been sent within hours of my writing that whiny long-ass prayer that night in Alhambra. I only wished that I had the journal to look back and see exactly what I had said; because from what I remembered conceptually, most of what the stranger wrote could very well fit the theme of what I asked in that black journal, now lost in the abyss of a notorious psych ward.
I was reminded of the red journal, so I scanned back through it. Though I would still be waiting for the other unfulfilled requests; I decided to write another very simple petition.
“Dear God, please let me remember exactly what it was I said that night when I was again so pitifully drunk on sorrow.” I scrawled, again sealing the last three words with drops of blood; then turning over to an early sleep.
Dreams that night were short, I remembered walking down the middle of a dark hallway, precariously on a thin balance beam between two bottomless chasms on each side. When I got to the end of the curved winding hallway, I came to a circular room, of which the minimal light revealed the vague outlines of thousands and thousands of books stacked to the ceilings all around- as though it were all the knowledge in the world. but before I could touch a single one, I was grabbed from behind by a dark entity, dragged and held to the ground; as had been customary for many, many years. I awoke bolting upright in bed, quickly muffling the beginning of a scream before it woke Melisa.
In the glow of the moonlit window, I saw a parcel of mail by my bedside. I guessed that it had somehow been overlooked on the porch the day before, of whom perhaps Andre put it there late last night, because anyone else would have put it in the office for clearance. It was from Alhambra. I bit though the grey plastic bag to find my black journal inside. “Holy Hell”, I muttered in disbelief. Well those awful people had just redeemed themselves. I opened it to look back at the two red letter entries. And there was my whiny long-ass prayer. Written just under three hours before the stranger’s message, It read:
Do you truly even see or feel the depths of the terror, desperation, and anguish within me? I thought that perhaps You had heard me that morning on the end of the bed, that perhaps You would in the near future consider my plea. I’ve been well past my breaking point and I grow increasingly terrified of losing my precarious grip on sanity as I continue to experience an exponentially deepening darkness and constant sense of an inexplicable doom and dread. I am with people but I feel alone. I feel abandoned and that you don’t care for me anymore. I speak so simply now and I can’t get these words to form the proper feeling or meaning; as I can’t speak concisely or eloquently for emotions that are so very un-containable. I feel that I’m slipping farther away everyday from everything and everyone. I can no longer breathe, nor sense Your presence. I need Your peace, for I’ve none of my own anymore. I wish to die, and You know that my words are no show, that I indeed have sought death for all this time. Why do I still draw breath? I never could have though that anything could hurt so much, or that I would ever feel so trapped and desperate, or so much as though suffocating in small increments. Where are you when I cry out, afraid? My strength has all dried up, my will to live dissipated, and my hope is gone. what purpose could my life possibly hold from here on? Please take my life! Do you even hear me? Have you stopped caring about me, as I’m afraid everyone else will- who has not already? I’m sick and tired of myself. Are You too? The only one I speak plainly to? I have been reduced to such an elementary, insecure, and convoluted being and I am filled with so crushing of a shame and embarrassment. Please let me know that You’re still there and there is still compassion left somewhere that I can find within myself. Forgive me for taking the fleeting moments of peace or happiness my life had known, for granted. Forgive me for not being able to appreciate the times and the life that are now gone, even more than I already did. I’m sorry for failing any purpose You may have had for my life, for I’m not strong enough to carry on any further in any semblance of normalcy; and everyone will soon see what I have become when I can no longer hide behind the lie. Have I disappointed You? Please bring my life to a close, I beg. Please bring the pain, fear, torment, and hopelessness to an end.”
“Well that was a lot whinier than I remembered…”I laughed to myself. Oh well, I guess it got the job done.