Dear God(I want to forget)

Dear God,

What will it take to make You see me again?

Time moves slowly when you are eagerly waiting for something, and it moves fast when you have nothing to wait for. But somehow, for me, time seemed to not be moving at all. It felt still, unmoving, unchanging. There was nothing to look forward to, nothing to dread, everything just seemed so neutral. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and the flowers were blossoming, yet to me, it all felt like staring at a blank white page, waiting for something to give it life. Everything felt lifeless.

"You can't hide forever, you know."

I turned to face my best friend, Yamikelani, who was telling me the same thing she had told me five days ago. Every day, she would walk into my room, say the exact same thing, then just stare at me until she got tired and walked away, leaving me to waste away. She had tried so many times to get me to leave the room, to go outside and get some fresh air, but I didn't want any of that. My body and mind had given up, and they were right to.

"Someday, you will need to get out there and start again… You need to find your footing, and you can't do that by hiding yourself in this room."

This time, she sat next to me. I swallowed the lump in my throat that hadn't been there a second ago.

"Starting again doesn't make the pain go away. Starting again doesn't mean anything if you still remember everything," I said, turning my gaze outside the window, down to the pavement of the street.

Right across my window, I could see three houses. The first belonged to the Dlaminis, who always seemed to have a new family hobby. The second was home to the Dlomos, who barely tolerated each other but stayed together for the sake of family, even though they were always at each other's throats. The last was the Dubes, and, well… they were just the Dubes. There wasn't much to say about them; they were just them. It was funny how three neighboring families all had surnames starting with D, yet they couldn't be more different. Nothing brought them together except their last names and the fact that they lived side by side.

I often wondered if God had a hidden agenda, placing them so close to each other. Maybe He wanted one of their children to marry the other. Or maybe He had designed them to be best friends. Or perhaps, just maybe, one of them was meant to be an answered prayer for the other.

Eventually, Yamikelani left the room, as she always did. She tried every day to get me to go outside, and every day she failed. Yet still, she came back the next day, trying again.

Normally, her persistence would have driven me mad. It would have annoyed me. But now? Now, I felt nothing. No anger. No frustration. No irritation. Because if I reacted, if I let myself feel, I would get angry. And if I got angry, I would lash out. And if I lashed out, I might lose her too.

She was my best friend. She was all I had now, all I could hold onto to keep myself sane.

The God I thought loved me the most had abandoned me.

And she was the only one left.

So far, she hadn't brought up what happened three months ago. And I think it's for the best. Reliving those memories every day and night was enough punishment. We both knew what happened.

But I had one question for her.

And I was terrified that if I asked it, she would leave for good.

"She will leave. She is tired. She can't be here for you anymore. If you don't start talking and listening to her, she will leave you, just like they all did. Your husband left you. And God isn't even here for you."

The voice whispered as darkness poured into my room.

It was the same voice that tormented me every night.

Daytime was a blank canvas, untouched and waiting for something to fill it. But night… night was a canvas already filled, yet hollow and dark. A canvas that, when you looked at it, showed you all the ugly things you tried to hide.

The things you didn't want the world to see.

But deep down, you knew.

You saw them every day.

And they were ugly.

And painful.

Like a knife, slowly pressed into your heart, its sharp edges slicing through every part of you.

I had tried everything.

Tried ignoring it.

Tried sleeping.

Tried humming.

But the voice only got louder every time I tried to drown it out.

It tormented me every night.

And there was no one to help me fight it.

No one but myself.

Does God see all of this?

Does He hear the voice as loudly as I do?

Does He see my pain? My torment?

Or has He turned His back on me, as if I never existed?

Because if He truly sees it all, if He truly hears me…

Why isn't He rescuing me?

Why isn't He fighting for me?

Didn't He say that if we call unto Him, 'Lord, Lord,' He would be by our side?

Didn't He say He would fight for us?

So then…

What have I done that has caused Him to forsake me?