Them

I see them as unhappy people. People stuck in circumstances and jobs they would rather not be in. They’re tolerating it all to get somewhere else they’d rather be. Life is an endurance race till then.

I see them with dulled senses and spirits. People who can’t see the forest for the trees. They don’t really know where they want to go and they’re killing themselves to get there. I see people so spent, they cannot fully give themselves to anything. I see people who are silent, stifled, numbed. Not living, but existing. Running on empty, wearing themselves out. Too distracted to notice.

And I try to care but attempts made pass without comment.

Maybe this is how God feels. “Speak to Me please,” He says. “Why don’t you tell Me things? Why am I always the last to know? Don’t I matter? Doesn’t what I have to say matter?”

Why don't you tell me things?