As I stood alone at that empty corridor, the thought suddenly but me as clear as day.
My Lord has never forgotten me. He has sustained me from before I know and is still keeping me alive. He ever abandons me despite my heedlessnes, ingratitude and shameful conduct.
It was an overwhelmingly intense moment and I had to sit down.
Every now and then I would be hit with these powerful episodes of clarity and my chest would feel so open and light, liberated and coursing with regret and love. Life would suddenly have colour and my existence would be almost tangible, so precious and yet so fragile a gift.
But I would of course drag myself out to the darkness of night again and drown myself in a black pool. How stupid then to wake up every morning questioning why my life felt so fragmented, exhausting and wholly unfulfilling.
But like a small town approaching the depths of night, the lights slowly went out. Little by little those blips of awakening became less frequent, less intense, till I was completely surrounded in a pit of sticky tar, my own self enveloping me. Suffocating me without taking my life, dragging me down a road to another hell.
Is there any good left in me? Am I truly one of the Lost now?