What art thou that Usurp'st this Time of Night?

"Is it everything you thought it would be," she asks, seductively leaning against the door frame. Look at her, the whole world at her fingertips. Her confident air is so intoxicating it's sickening. Who does she think she is? She has come here to boast and gawk. She is also angry and vindictive in her tone. 'What have you done to me,' her eyes imply. Who is she? Why is she here? Has she come to torment me? How could she possibly have any influence over me? She has none. I have conquered her. What nerve she has asking me anything! What does she know? What could she possibly know? She has never done a thing for herself! She is incapable of an independent thought. She lives under an illusion of independence. Were illusions ever so bad?

I stand up, facing her. She flinches and she hopes I do not notice. We stand nose to nose, eye to eye. Some things never change. She tries to show her superiority over me. She relies too strongly on the physical. She is no match in strength but she knows she reigns in quickness. She chooses not to make a move in retreat, almost certain I will not harm her. I consider addressing her question, but I resist. I have no need to defend my choices. She would never understand my reasoning. All she knows is youth and beauty. She lives in a suspended state, unaware that these things fade. She has no idea I have not inflicted anything upon her and I let her accusations drift in the air between us.

"I can not believe what you have done to us," she hisses. Sometimes I can not believe it either but I dare not concur with her. I could outwit her easily but I am intelligent enough not to speak. I consider striking her but the perfection of her face stops me. She sees me falter and her eyes suppose victory. Perhaps she has won. How easily I feel defeated. How often I pursue her without her knowing. She evades me every time, only appearing when I would rather her not.

It is time for her to leave and we both know it. She recedes into a memory, from whence she came. She is not gone; she always returns. She lives another day to flaunt her ignorance. I continue to despise her, to pursue her, to hold her, to push her away, to submit to her, to overcome her.

Everything Must Go

Alright. Time to clean the closet. I'm over most of the stuff that is crowding my life. All of these all-give relationships are smothering me. They have to go. I will draw the line between what is actually a friendship and what is a drain. I need to re-file a bunch of stuff. I think I have quite a few relationships filed under friends, when they actually belong under the ministering-to tab. It's not so draining that way because there is that seperation that keeps me sane. Any other minister knows what I'm talking about here. Also, I am getting rid of some antiquated notions hanging in the closet, suffocating my new ideas. How I view myself, for example, needs some revamping. I can not be all things to all people. I will prioritize which people are most important, starting with my children and husband. The rest of it can be put away and some can be donated completely. Oh man, I'm feeling better already. Oooh, I forgot I had this: Value for my time. It looks good on me, don't you think? Perhaps I will have a yard sale. In the fifty-cent box goes worry and stress and situations I cannot affect. For a quarter you can have some relationships that I mistakingly purchased thinking they were friendships. Not interested? To the trash it goes.