In His Arms

There are some things you can change easily. Like hair colours and styles. Clothes. All the physical things that have nothing to do with facial features. Other things can be changed, but it takes time and effort. Like small personality flaws. Still other things can't be changed at all. At least, not by intervention from oneself.

Broken hearts. Broken families. Broken marriages. One's deeper personality. The way one acts, thinks, speaks. The way other people act. We can't fix ourselves. Everyone knows they're broken. Everyone wants to be fixed. But you can't be. Everything that goes wrong, no matter how big or how small, will always leave a little scar. Or a big scar. But I'm not sure how accurate an analogy the whole 'scars' thing is. Scars don't hurt. Memories do.

Every time you've looked at yourself in the mirror disgusted at what you see, with hatred in your heart. Every time you've given in to that constant driving anger and hurt yourself or someone else, or broken something. Every time you've cried yourself to sleep. Every time you've felt like exploding with hate, anger, shame, disgust, loneliness, heartache. Every time you've felt like no one cares. Each of those things leaves a little cut inside you. You can't escape it. Even if you look perfectly happy on the outside, you can still feel each of those little cuts aching away inside, like psychological bleeding.

There has to be a way to escape from everything. There has to be some way to heal up the cuts into scars. Even the best fall down sometimes.

There's a God up above us all who cares about every little thing that makes us sad. Who wants to help us live our lives for Him without so much self-doubt weighing us down. They say He wants to hold you in His arms like a father. And I think that's right. But I believe we're all in His arms already. Sometimes we just need to know how to realize it.