To You, Dear Doubt, Whom This Concerns The Most

Of all the times you’ve held me hostage to your whims.

Placing the weight of unbearable sarcasm and the most pathetic of jokes.

Boy, were they amusing.

You almost had me fooled with all your talents and tricks.

To think that all of those stories became a cult of their own.

A cult, I thought and believed, was what I needed.

I was so wrong.

How can you speak of those nice words and think it could pass as gold for our days together?

It doesn’t add up.

How did we get to this point?

It started innocently enough, but I noticed the unrequited dance taking hold of me, and the fallout of some decisions were not my best.

All those times could have been used for building. Not destroying.

For expanding. Not confining.

For loving. Not cowering.

You told me there’s no hope. No love. No courage to be found.

Singing me sweet whispers of dreams, only to delude me into thinking those fantasies don’t exist.

You sure had your way with words.

It kept repeating over and over again, like a broken record.

I didn’t even notice it was broken.

To me, it felt normal. It felt like catchy music.

Until that day.

I finally realized how much I no longer want any of it.

The dismal spaces that hold all the times you’ve cornered me into dead ends.

Chiding at every sign of the cross and kneel.

You really didn’t like it when I paid more attention to the man upstairs.

Especially when I worked with him side-by-side, pushed through the challenges, and never gave up. 

The me that you so despised and became jealous of, choosing the front seat.

The one who broke past the chains and emerged into the light.

The one who gained certainty and didn't stay in the muddied waters.

That must have bugged the hell out of you.

No wonder you missed having me at your side.

And chained to your feet.

You needed to stay alive.

To have purpose.

To be seen.

To be heard.

But gosh, did you have an odd way of showing this.

The focus and admiration you craved.

I gave it to you willingly.

Believing your magnetic, bread-crumbing negativity was much easier than pursuing my authentic, all-consuming clear voice.

You had reasons for being loud and in charge, especially when disrupting the peace would have meant war for others.

Unfortunately, that war ended up waging and raging within me.

But you liked that. And you wanted that.

The in-between, on-the-fence, ambivalence.

I’ve only realized how much I’ve allowed you to play the deceptive diplomat.

What I thought was a truce ended up being a betrayal.

WHAT. A. MESS.

I can’t say that I have fully picked myself out of this sinkhole.

And I'm sure I'll be in this terrain again.

Not because I want to, but because it happens.

But now I know for sure, I’m not alone.

Old and new friends bring the ropes and ladders of hope to my aid.

The unwavering love and trust they bring to me and grow within me.

All coming from the call of divine support.

How I’ve been so cold to them.

When all they’ve ever done is offer warmth and strength during those times of turmoil.

For the many moments I’ve let you take the stage and take over my life.

It’s about time you had your final act.

You’ll have your say backstage, when called for, but not as the main star.

I know you’ll have something meaningful to offer now and then.

But giving weight to how you speak poison when you don't need to, needs to end and no longer have the pedestal.

It’s been too long since that same performance aired, and it's been a hit or miss.

Mainly misses.

It’s become white noise.

This is the closing act to your play that has now become void of an audience.

It’s been a good run.

You’ve had a few impressive marks, but it’s been a lot of running negatives for the other plays.

And you, my dear doubt, in your many colorful shades, have had your time.

You can drop me a line when something important comes up, and I’ll listen to what you have to say.

Of course, I’ll engage with divine consultation during those times to get another perspective on things.

But don’t expect me to return to how things were before everything began.

We are waaaay past that point.

Far too many things have happened for us to go back to where we were.

Life can by funny sometimes, so I'm sure we'll cross paths.

When we meet again, let it be short, to the point, and open, but not too open.

So here is where I say: Thank You and Peace Out.