WHEN I POUR out my mind, I wish You would find pure adoration and gratitude, like it is with the Saints. But out comes anxiety over what might be, bitterness over what wasn't, lust for what shouldn't be, and arrogance for what isn't mine to boast. The sound and the fury of an idiot in a contrived drama on a made-up stage. And little flecks of hope, trust, and love.
And, adoration and gratitude.