A Pit

It was nothing new, but it was still so dark and deep.

It physically made me ill. 

There was no pain in my heart, there was no pain in my mind. Just in my stomach.

It twisted, a reminder that it had never really left.

Although I had treated it in the best way I knew how, the treatment I used was only temporary.

And the true wound was back, in it's original state.

I tried to push it away.

But the harder I tried to make it leave me, the deeper it penetrated my heart and my mind. 

The only two places where pain could bring me down.

I didn't ask for this. 

In fact, the book was closed.

Locked even.

And I had thrown away the key. 

But the book was taken off the shelf, by somebody else, and opened to the chapter that, though locked away, was still burned into my brain.

I cried. 

I had known it all along, but couldn't admit it to myself.

I was angry. Angry at so many different forces. The force that found the key and opened the book, the force that wrote the terrible chapter, and the force that was within me-that hadn't allowed myself to think clearly about the matter. 

Initially I was going to run away.

I didn't need to think about it.

Not again.

There was no purpose, in my mind, to relive it.

And then my heart led me to understand why this was happening.

It was for the better.

I turned to those around me that I trusted. 

They had no reason to understand why I had locked the book, but they did. 

They understood that even though I wanted to leave it shut & hidden, I needed to treat the wound properly.

What I had doctored up before was adequate, and worked for a time. But since it wasn't the correct fix, I needed to understand what it would truly take to close the wound. I needed to, once again, suffer the pain from that horrible chapter in order to receive proper healing.

That was yesterday.

This is today.

And the pit in my stomach is still here as it was there. 

It has followed me through a full 24 hours.

And it sucks.

BUT I know that because the force that had found the key and opened the book, despite my resistance, I would be forever thankful. I would know the true feeling of recovery.

In time, it would be something that I wouldn't regret. Rather, it would be something that I endear.

The past is dark.

Dark because it is hidden behind you.

Everything has already happened in the past. 

The sun has set, eternally, on it-and will not be rising again.

The future is bright.

It is before your eyes. 

It's still hidden, but nothing is finalized. 

It's open and free.

The future is full. Full of hope and joy. Full of radiance.

I cannot wait for the future.

Even if it means I have a pit in the present.