"Ding-Dong" I hear a knock at the door.
I told him to go away!
Not now. Later, maybe.
Maybe I should pull myself together. But my house is a mess and I'm not ready for visitors. Groggily I half-fall out of bed. Argh. Making my way to the kitchen, I see bottles and cans littering the bench. The stench of alcohol almost overpowers me. Where am I?
I do this every Saturday night. My mascara is running and my lipstick went home on somebody else. Where is my make up remover? I forgot. With hair standing on end, I look like I've been electrically shocked. I need to clean myself up. Really, I should.
Should is a word I use often. I know I could be a better person and I want to, I try to, but its just so hard. Sometimes at night I cry for help when I'm all alone, but nobody answers. Instead I listen to my screams echo as reminders of my loneliness, let them permeate the walls and come back empty, open.
Open, they say, the doors are always open. But they're not really. I'm the gossip of the town, as if they haven't done something they're not proud of. My mistakes are just more visible. Which reminds me, I'd better clean up the lounge. My little red boxes of sin and shame, hidden under the couch. I can't hide the fact that they're mine.
My head throbs, and my heart aches. Everyone is at church I guess. That must be why they don't call anymore. I wonder what happens to them every other day of the week? Nobody comes to the door anymore. Only my friends who come to party. Even then, they don't help clean up. Would anyone notice if I cemented my door?
Doors hide all kinds of things. Mainly loneliness. But Jesus keeps knocking.
Maybe I Should Open My Door.
"Behold, I stand at the door an knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me."
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