Surrender

Surrender. A horrible word. A word that terrifies me. A word that means that I am not in control. Surrender. I hate that word.

I am covered in darkness. Black as coal. Life is a miserable affair. Night and day blend together. I have lost my passion for life. I have lost my reason for living.

Surrender. This terrible word invades my world daily. Surrender means I must let go. I cannot let go. I must keep some semblance of control. No, I cannot surrender.

Life goes on. Instead of getting brighter it is getting darker. Darker. Darker. Everything slips from my grasp. Nothing. Nothing happens as I had planned.

Surrender. Death. Surrender. Death. A seemingly endless chant. I must choose one. In surrender there is a death to myself. In death, there is an end to life, an end to my life. I must choose to live a life of no control or to die and never live again. Surrender. Death. Surrender. Death.

Silence. The world stops and waits. Which will I choose? A knife? Or a Hand?

Silence. Nothing but the sound of my breathing. Creation watches in wonder.

I pick up a knife, bring it to my wrist. . . and instead of the cut I had planned, I fall. I fall to my knees. My eyes flood with tears, tears that haven’t existed in years. A miracle. I reach for the hand. I strain. I grasp. A hand touches my face, light, brilliant light is before me. A miracle.

Surrender. A terrible word. A horrible thought. Surrender. A wonderful hope. An entrance into the only life worth living.