“You’re distant, Sarah,” he said. “Hauntingly distant.”
I answered, I questioned, I answered, “I am.”
How can I not be after the week I’ve had?
The year I’ve had. The life I’ve had.
And I’m so angry; I’m not even sure what about.
Maybe it’s my lovers, or my brother, or my father, or God.
But I keep losing everyone I love.
How can I not be distant? Tell me, friend–how can I not?
Cause there are some things you can never unlive–
No matter how hard you try.
So let’s stop pretending that Jesus will fix it.
He can’t undo the choices I’ve made.
And I’m so weary of the grief like I’m weary of snow.
I wish it would melt and flood me so I can feel whole.
But I’m so buried beneath it all.
I can’t feel anything anymore.
How can I not be distant?–I’ve lost everyone I love.
And I’m losing my mind here, in the chaos of it all.
So when you walk away, friend, I understand.
I’ll be here, distant and alone, in the end.