The White Wall

You crawl to the corner of your room rocking yourself quietly. You are not crying, you are not singing, you are not talking. You are simply there. Just there.

You sigh and look around your room, everything looks spick and span plus the white paint on the wall. The white paint attracts you and you squirm in your corner.

Your white bedsheets also call to you, to see its gracefulness. Your breath hitch and you could feel heat even though the weather is very much cool.

Why is everything white around you when you don't really feel "white"?

You suddenly wish you can be the white paint. You suddenly wish you can be the white sheets on your bed.

You close your eyes and remember the events of the day. How you climbed the pulpit to talk to the congregation, how you captured their attention with the utterances He gave you. How many of them gave their lives to Jesus at the end of the sermon, how your pastor kept nodding at every rhema, how many people shook hands with you telling you how your teaching blessed them. 

But what they don't know is that you are a victim of the very thing you preach. You are a victim of sexual addictions and just few minutes ago, you just "watched small".

What they don't know is that you are neck deep in the same thing you openly preach against. What they don't know is that even though your teachings bless them, you can't save yourself. You can't get a solution out of this life and you keep sinking everyday.

What they don't know and can't know is that you seriously wish you can hide somewhere and be the white paint on the wall. 

What they don't know and wouldn't know is that you are tired of the mess.

And in your despair, you mutter, "God, please help me. I can't do this anymore."

To your healing journey and freedom.