Red Swallow

I've been thinking. I've spoken with the Beast, been blessed by the Lord, seen the beauty of the Goddess, flown with angels, battled demons, witnessed glimpses of both Heaven and Hell, suffered wounds, been a reason for living, predicted the future, escaped the past, parted the clouds and nearly died... and yet despite all that I can't escape the notion lately that I am still nothing but dust, and the awesome powers I have seen serve only to remind me how insignificant I am. Next to God and even those who would call themselves gods I am nothing. Endured so much, accomplished so little.
I've had these feelings before. They pass quickly. I think it's why I try to love; to keep such matters out of perspective. It's hard to feel insignificant with someone in your arms.

Where are you, beloved? I miss you.
It occurred to me the other day that we both have father issues. Of course, yours are more literal while mine are more along the lines of 'some paranoid/delusional fantasy my self-obsessed mind dreamt up because in some roundabout way it justifies my existence' which doesn't really help either of us. I guess it's not really fair to compare us that way. Or is it? I don't know.
I've been really depressed the past couple days because of the possibility that most of my life is really delusions and absurd rationalizations. I know I'd rather be crazy than right. But if I can't believe in myself, how can I believe in anything? For all I know I really do talk to thin air.
This again dredges up the question of how anyone could love an insane freak like me. I don't want to have those thoughts. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I've been hurt before... not that that's any excuse.

Whatever. Maybe I'm dust and maybe I'm delusional, but maybe I'm strong anyway and someone loves me. I go on. It's what I do.