Warranty for the body- if not the soul.



I’ll put it down honestly. I am tired of this body- of the constant, driving, gnawing pain, pounding as the surf, and unrelenting in its erosion of my spirit. My soul feels as worn and tossed aside as one of the smooth rocks I recently gathered from Sombrio beach. In my waking hours, it is an ongoing challenge to find things that will distract me from the prison that is my body. Pain is a cruel master, demanding my attention, sucking away my life and energy. My family does not understand- I sit in judgement in the courts of some, and the others remain ignorant or uninterested. Who wants to listen to someone in pain? I hate my life- like the psalmist, I long for the peaceful repose of death. I wonder “how long”? The body and soul do not come with warranties. I sit in isolation, longing for someone to bear this burden with me. I don’t want the company of those who wish to be entertained, as I have barely enough energy to keep breathing.

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