No one hears her cries for help.
No matter her volume, she's ignored.
Her voice is just a lost whisper in the abyss.
She knows not if it will return, nor if she can wait any longer.
Stuck behind the glass, she watches her life continue without her.
Always present, but never there.

I'm guilty.
I'm covered in filth.
Who would want me?
Maybe when I've cleaned the dirt off my face, love will take me in.
I must attain perfection before approaching it.
But there's a voice that speaks above my sin.
"Come as you are."
...
This can't be right.
As I am?
No. I'm a mess.
I'm broken, sinful, and weary.
The answer remains clear.
*"Come as you are, beloved. You're still mine."

While he thought of someone else, she thought of him.
There is no deeper pain than this:
To love and not be loved.

My future gives me an anxiety that will last a lifetime.
It will not be controlled.
It will not be known.
It's a rather cruel game, don't you agree? Being clueless to the inevitable.

It's called faith, not fact.
But for it to be faith, you must see it as fact.

Removing you from my life was like taking alcohol away from a drunk.
I got angry, I begged for your return, but when I was finally sober, I knew it was for the best.

The girl in the day walks towards night, and the darkness swallows her whole.
She doesn't panic, but decides to stay,
"Just for a minute," she says to the light.
So she dines with darkness and dances with sin, giving in to every pleasure.
The girl who came no longer is the same as when darkness met her.