Wake up.
Who am I? Why am I here? I know what this place is called. It's a hospital. I'm in a bed. It's so bright in here. I don't know why it's so bright, but I don't think it's supposed to be so bright. Someone just walked in the room and they look really excited that I'm awake. I think she must be a nurse. She looks pretty frazzled and well worked. I think nurses work really hard. More people are coming in now. They're saying a name. "Clara." Is that who I am? Why can't I seem to say anything. I think I'm choking. I think I'm crying. There's definitely something wet on my face. I don't think I even know these people. They seem to know me. They keep saying that name.
"Am I Clara?"
They seem really worried now. And scared. There's whispering and they left. I feel so alone. I felt comforted when they were here. I don't know who I am or where my family is. Could that have been my family? That's ridiculous. I don't remember those people at all. But I can't remember myself either. I'm not even sure I know what I look like. My hair is brown? Or maybe it's blonde. No, I'm looking at it now, it's definitely black. This is all so weird. Wouldn't you think someone named Clara would have lighter hair? Who would name a black haired baby Clara? Maybe I didn't have hair when I was born. Or maybe I dye it. I would have to see the roots to really know. Why do I care what my natural hair color is?! I don't even remember my last name. I sure hope those people weren't my family. I'd sure hope I'd at least remember my family! But I don't even remember my own name. This is so surreal. What even happened to me? I don't remember anything, but I feel exhausted. I wonder if I was asleep for a long time. They're coming back in the room now. I don't know what to say to them.
"I'm sorry."
They're crying. Well, at least the woman I thought was the nurse is. Is that my mother? Could that be my mother? She looks too young to be my mother. I feel like I must be at least 30. That woman looks like she's in her late 40s. How old am I? How can I not even know how old I am. I feel so old. But I think 30 is old, so I must not be 30. Who on earth am I? Oh, there's a doctor stepping forward now. He better be a doctor and not my dad. He has some sort of chart. Amnesia. Yeah, I could have told me that.
"What happened to me?"
Car accident? Well apparently I'm at least old enough to drive because no one seems shocked that I was driving. If I got in a crash maybe I'm young and reckless. Oh. Drunk drive, other guy's fault. Well that sucks. I was coming home to visit my family. I must be in college or something. That would certainly make sense. At least I'm not dead, but this sure sucks. I feel like I'm trapped inside my mind somewhere and I can't get out. Even I don't know where I really am. Geeze that sounds philosophical. I sure hope I'm not a philosophy major. That stuff seems too deep for me. But maybe it isn't. Maybe I love it. When you have amnesia, can things you love seem foreign to you? Well, it must be possible because I'm sure I love my family if I was coming home to see them and they all seem completely foreign to me. But then again, maybe they were forcing me to come home and I really hate them all. But that doesn't feel right. Nothing feels right. This is all so exhausting and is getting me no where. I'll figure it out tomorrow. Right now, I'm so tired I just need to...
Sleep.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
My World
I made this world, my world, for them, that they would enjoy it and that they would thank and praise me for what I had done for them. But they don't even know that I exist. I've sent them so many signs, so many messages. I have even showed myself in person, told them directly that I love them, showed them what my love is. Still they ignore me. I taught them by example how to live, the secrets to true joy and happiness. They think their way is better. They forget and ignore me.
They don't want my way because my way seems hard to them. They don't realize how draining and difficult their way is. They think they know better how they were designed to live. They forget that I was the one who designed them in the first place. They make things of their own design and get angry when those things don't act right, don't do what they are meant to do. The things they create break and they try to fix them, but yet they won't let me fix them, my creation.
They want to be loved by those they care for, and yet they show me no love. I not only care for them, I made them, I designed them. That desire for love that they have, I put that there to begin with. Don't they realize I want it, too? Don't they realize I have a plan for each of them?
They think they are better on their own. They think they understand. Some even think they understand me, but they don't. They think no one can possibly understand them, though they are simple beings, and yet they presume to know me. I have revealed myself to them, but the full extend of my will is unknowable. I have shown them time and time again that I know what I am doing, and that I am looking out for them, but still they won't trust me. They turn to their own ways. They turn to the very things that are hurting them so much. If they would just let me work my desired purpose through them, they would see what their lives were meant to be. I made them. I designed them. I made this world for them, and another even better if they would just accept the offer I give to them.
I love my people, my creation. I love each and every one of them that has been and is and ever will be. I know all their futures. I know the choices they will make and I know the choices they should make. Still, I reach out to them and beg them to do things my way, the right way, the way it was designed to be. If they would listen, they would know what freedom and happiness and love really are. But I did not design them to be forced to do my will. I offer freely, and they must accept. They must see and open their hearts. I want them all to come to know the truth. And it starts with just one.
If just one will see and know and accept and understand what I am trying to say, what I have been trying to say all these years, then it can spread. If you know the truth, if you have the secret to true happiness, it has to spread. That one person has those they love and each of those has others they love, and that's how it begins. That's how the truth spreads.
I love you. Will you love me? Will you accept my call to be the start of something wonderful?
They don't want my way because my way seems hard to them. They don't realize how draining and difficult their way is. They think they know better how they were designed to live. They forget that I was the one who designed them in the first place. They make things of their own design and get angry when those things don't act right, don't do what they are meant to do. The things they create break and they try to fix them, but yet they won't let me fix them, my creation.
They want to be loved by those they care for, and yet they show me no love. I not only care for them, I made them, I designed them. That desire for love that they have, I put that there to begin with. Don't they realize I want it, too? Don't they realize I have a plan for each of them?
They think they are better on their own. They think they understand. Some even think they understand me, but they don't. They think no one can possibly understand them, though they are simple beings, and yet they presume to know me. I have revealed myself to them, but the full extend of my will is unknowable. I have shown them time and time again that I know what I am doing, and that I am looking out for them, but still they won't trust me. They turn to their own ways. They turn to the very things that are hurting them so much. If they would just let me work my desired purpose through them, they would see what their lives were meant to be. I made them. I designed them. I made this world for them, and another even better if they would just accept the offer I give to them.
I love my people, my creation. I love each and every one of them that has been and is and ever will be. I know all their futures. I know the choices they will make and I know the choices they should make. Still, I reach out to them and beg them to do things my way, the right way, the way it was designed to be. If they would listen, they would know what freedom and happiness and love really are. But I did not design them to be forced to do my will. I offer freely, and they must accept. They must see and open their hearts. I want them all to come to know the truth. And it starts with just one.
If just one will see and know and accept and understand what I am trying to say, what I have been trying to say all these years, then it can spread. If you know the truth, if you have the secret to true happiness, it has to spread. That one person has those they love and each of those has others they love, and that's how it begins. That's how the truth spreads.
I love you. Will you love me? Will you accept my call to be the start of something wonderful?
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