My Dearest Life,
I am beginning to shake my head at you more and more.
I don't want to, but I can't help but to hang my head low to keep from looking up at the drama that makes me dizzy.
The hurt sinks deeper as I lay in my bed with my eyes wide; lost tempers swirl over my head.

You don't hurt as much as it does in bed, when your thoughts come alive.
My Dearest Life, you hurt so much, you make it hard for me to pray to my Lord, or enrich myself in His Word.
No one around me can understand exactly what I feel or what I am.
They think they know, but no one knows. Do you have to be this hard on me?

Sincerely, X