Deliver Me

I’m going through an absolute shit-storm right now. There’s just no other way to put it. I haven’t hit the proverbial “rock-bottom” yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Searching for something, I found something else; words I had jotted down on the outside of a manila folder. I don’t recall when or under what circumstances. The paragraphs, if you want to call them that, are written in an almost nonsensical pattern; starting in the middle, moving left, then back to the right, then upward. And in the middle of it all the words “Deliver Me!” with a box drawn around it. And “Thank You!” scribbled at the end. The words, as relevant today as when I wrote them down the first time.

Courtesy: Deviant Art/cycyuts

Deliver Me – Courtesy: Deviant Art/cycyuts


I rescued my kid – plz rescue me! I can’t promise never to screw up again. I can only promise to try to do better. Better than what? Better than my folks? Better than the guy next to me? Better than yesterday or 10 or 20 years ago? The only person I have to compare myself to is that girl. That young, stupid girl. Words – words and more words. No matter how many, it doesn’t change a thing.

Of all the mistakes I’ve ever made, this one isn’t the worst! I am imperfect. Doing the best I can. It’s all relative. I think I’m doing okay. Surely the good things I did will compensate for my mistakes? I started out with good intentions. Tell me, I did not pave my own path to hell.

I’m still sitting here. Praying to be delivered. Yet again. My words don’t matter. Only the words of a strangers. I’ve in the position before. It seems unfair. Why should a stranger have more control over my life than I do. Control. A lack of it. It does seem like someone has always had more control over my life than me. But is my life mine?

And when shit happens, and it always does, it will happen again, I will get the blame. Not the other people who have taken over control of my life. Control but no blame. Why is that fair?

Fair – that’s why we’re all here today, right? To make sure justice is handed down. Equally. I know there is no such thing as justice or equal justice. No one wins. No one loses.  – Thank you! 

deliver me


– J. Ela


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