#151

You lash out at the Lord,
because you're a weak man.
You're afraid of things.

You laugh,
you claim confidence,
and even face danger
without a shred of fear.

But those are just lies.
Untruth.
Facade.

In times of need,
and I mean rock bottom,
no more decision-making,
no way out,

you curse at God.

You are terribly, terribly
weak and awfully
a poor soul.

A very, very pitiful man.
Truly.

You are small.
Minuscule. Minute.
Trivial, even.

And yet,

you keep hoping.

You question things,
you have doubts,

sometimes,
regrettably,
even deny Him.

And yet,
you continue to talk with My Father.

It hurts me too,
actually.

But—

Can I blame you?

You always forget
that you are loved.

It hurts me too,
really.

But—

in times
when you're alone,

you never forget
to talk with My Father.

My child,

I hope that

one day,

you could forgive yourself too.

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