Messing up isn’t difficult. It doesn’t take any amount of skill or training. You do it the moment you come out of the womb.
Trying to figure out exactly what to do in exactly the right moment isn’t easy, some might dare say it’s practically impossible.
Asking the right questions can be daunting. Rejection and sarcasm are always lurking around the corner.
Whenever I mess up I feel like I can’t get away from my mistake, like it’s always hanging over my head and it’s always punching me in the gut every time I try to think about something else. Whenever I mess up I just want to crawl into a corner and wait until the world has changed once more.
But I can’t. I can’t just stay in a dark room, crying, wondering how in the world I let myself make such a stupid mistake, and feeling as if I can’t even talk to God because I’m so ashamed and so embarrassed.
I’m not God. I’m human. I’m helpless. I mess up, especially when I’m trying hard to do the right thing.
When it comes right down to it, I don’t deserve the friends that I have, the new and the old. Why did God bless me with such great friends when He knew I was going to turn around and treat them so poorly?
My problem is that ever since I left home, and maybe even before then, I’ve been trying to be God. I have been struggling to keep up with Him and trying to always to the right thing…I have been trying to be perfect.
Well, I’m not perfect. I don’t know everything, in fact I know very little.
I know that in ten years from now, I’ll look back on this time and laugh at myself, but that doesn’t make this any less uncomfortable.