Complacency- The Silent, Suburban Killer

I don't know why but I've been searching for this post in one of my old journals for quite a while now. I found it 4 journals back from the one that I'm in now. The post is dated May 26, 2008. A bit mellow dramatic but I was young...er. Wow, this was 2 1/2 years ago.
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God, I need a cure. A cure for a disease more threatening than cancer, more infectious than AIDS. Lord, I need a cure for death, of the soul. What some might call complacency.

I am not asking for a miracle pill or some vaccine for infants that falls in line somewhere between measles & mumps. I need something much more. I need Your touch. I need You to move me.

I realize that right now I'm feeling a little on the heavy side because, well, I haven't been to the gym in a while and I have a lot of junk clinging to m y heart, like a massive magnet attracting all of the negatives around it. But You carried a cross made completely of dead tree so I think, no- I know, that You can handle me.

A girl, no, a woman? I can't even tell who's hands these are anymore. Where I have gone, what have I done? Where am I?

I am stuck in a rut, in a hole, in a... I don't even know what to call it. Death row? I feel like I am awaiting spiritual destruction. I feel like a slight sneeze might send me tumbling---gone. I am hidden inside the shell that I put in my closet last summer although I know You told me to throw it out.

Look where that got me! Here. Crying. [Illegible]. Complacent.

Thank the Lord that He can move mountains.

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