To the Maker of the Stars

I’m the biggest worrier in town. I tend to overthink everything—from the way other people talk to the way they move, from the way I feel to the way I deal with everything that life has to offer, from the changes in everyday system to the dysfunctional arrangement of life. Far too many times, I compare my journey to someone else’s while completely forgetting that You gave me a different path to take, a special path only crafted for me. I tend to belittle myself by standing every day in front of the mirror and hating every inch that I see. I love to do things on my own—dealing with my own setbacks, picking myself up so that no one would see me struggling, hiding in the little world that I have created myself and relying to the illusion that I have long convinced myself with; I have everything under control. But in realistic side, I am losing it bit by bit. I have trusted myself to reach the destination without realizing that I already pulled my hands out from Your tender grasp. I have been depending on my own for so long, and I’m growing tired. I’m tired of walking on the same road full of broken spectacle shards and still convincing myself that I’m okay even with my bloody feet, broken heart, twisted mind and exhausted soul. I’m tired of telling people that I don’t need anyone’s saving because I do, I need to be rescued, I need to fly once more and see the vast variety of colors roaming around the world that had been dull gray when I took steps away from You, from few steps to bigger ones, until I gone astray.

I surrender.

I want to give You my heart. I found it in the midst of nothingness, deteriorated and almost giving up. I want to give You my soul ‘cause Your love can glued it back. Teach me to let go and to just let You. Teach me to loose grasp of the myth that I have been living with; “I have a total control over my life.” You lend me your ears when no one wants to listen. You offer me Your eyes when I’m slowly getting blinded by the mediocrity of life. You give me strength when I am losing mine. You never gave up on me when I already did myself. You become my air when the world’s asphyxiating me. You’re the ocean of life, the groundwork of my faith tower and I couldn’t ask for more. When the depths of the despair consumed me, Your hands are the ones I’m still willing to hold on to. What took me so long to perceive that all this time, the love that the whole world has been searching for, is here with me? The kind of love that knows no condition; a love that just loves.

I want to stop myself from writing my story. Everything made so much sense to me when the thunderbolts of realizations strike; I shall give you the pen. Teach me to write the story in accordance to Your outline. I know You won’t erase the chapters that I made but the ones that are not written yet would be gratifyingly constructed according to the framework that You have for me. God, I’m letting you take over.

To the Maker of the stars, You’ll always be my favorite author.

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