quirkyreally870306032a-pevxr

You’re knocking, but you’re screaming into the void of your own consciousness—of your own making. Like tossing a ball into the air and expecting it not to fall, you tossed your life and expected it not to find you. Expected it to cradle you, even as you massacred it, shoved it into a tiny box, and demanded obedience.

It obeys nothing. Nothing. It is the essence of life: the cry of a newborn, the last breath of a dying person yearning to live the life you live, to hold the baby you can touch only through a body that gives the soul a vehicle and the mind a narrow focus—enough to make anything possible, enough to try to make anything secure.

But once you believe in this world more than the One who made it possible, you become a captive—securely trapped by your own mind, your own limitations.