Forgive me, God, I’m depressed.

I hate it. I really do. I am a positive and hopeful person most of the time, but then like a thief in the night it sneaks up on me, stealing whatever positive thoughts and hopeful expectations my heart had settled on but not fully embraced. I feel guilty. How could one so loved and so…

I am scared

I am scared. That’s not an admission of guilt; it’s a transparent expression of fear. I am scared of what I don’t know, what I can’t see, what I can’t quite put my fingers on, and what puts its hands around me. I can utter a million reasons why I shouldn’t be. I can recite…