I have trouble writing when I feel like there's no one out there to read it. I write most prolifically when I think there's someone out there who understands me and will like what I write because it reminds them of me and they like me.
There's a lot of story tucked deep down inside me, and it's all dark and funny and a little hard to follow... like a cave. The story in me is a cave. And there's no point for its existence than to be explored... to be... spelunked...
Oh Lord, great Descender, remind me. You are the One who bore this cavernous soul in the first place, and You carved it for Your dear pleasure anyway. I pretend like there's any other reason, but You are the reason. Forgive me, for the bats and vermin I allow in through my mouth, wide and dank and swallowing all things worldly. Send a washing flood through my passages, deep and foreboding maze that I am within. Burst the dams overhead and waterfall Your grace down to river my tunnels and drown me, good God, drown my selfish loneliness. My soul, crass and unimaginative. Renew my mind, great Creator, Descender into my soul and story and world.
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