Dear God. I have not spoken to you ever since it has ended. Presumably because what happened has deprived me of all the language I had within. But I am here, asking not for a miraculous change of events, asking not for a recurring nor an everlasting inconvenient fairytale to turn my world around, asking not for you to take me out of this dimension. I wouldn't ask for any of that, because I have this tendency of not asking for too much.
But God, I am stuck here. My lungs start collapsing at the dawning of every new day because I do not want to live through it. I do not merely want, but desperately and hopelessly need distance. So much of it.
God, I need room to breathe.
I need to be far; to not be trapped in this crowded city with all the noise and all the unsteadiness and all the people that make me feel like I don't belong.
I, dear God, need to wake up at a different place. A different space. Because every time I shut my eyes I see a life that I'm not living and a scene that I'm not a part of. I see a world that calls out for me, elsewhere.
Dear God of all gods, to the creator of the universe and you whom I call out for on my terribly silenced nights: the voice in me has become an echo of all the prayers I repeated before sleep, hoping to wake up to something different. The voice in me is cracking with the breaking of my own heart. My heart does not speak for itself anymore.
God, I need to escape. I need a place where the sun is not hiding, where the breeze is not followed with a storm, where there is serenity, where there is air, where there is me, light and diaphanous.
Take me out of here. I am begging and I am pleading, for there is no more light left in me. Can't you see?
