I have no more capacity to care.
Be clear, that this is different from the capacity to love.
Perhaps one is a subset of another, but for today, to protect the goodness I still hope I have, they are disparate.
I have no more capacity for passive aggressive behaviours.
I already have my own demons to fight, on somedays it takes all of me to stay alive. I'd much rather not deal with yours as well.
I have no capacity for your wounds, including the new ones you make.
I already have my own, and I am doing everything I can to not think about them.
I have no capacity for your brattish inclinations.
I already have people in my life that I love that I expend my limited energies to care for.
I have no capacity for your illogical unwise decisions.
"I told you so" no longer works, because I've already given up on cautioning you.
I guess I'm writing today because I'm concerned that my capacities are depleting...
Like a tired nurse in a war-zone with depleting supplies... sooner or later you will have to harden your heart to those you used to help, and embrace the darkness that accepts mortality wholeheartedly.
What is this darkness that lingers so long?
Has it enjoyed my company so much that it has set up camp for the long run?
Or perhaps it is on a mission - determined to douse my protected flame of idealistic kindness.
And yet I choose to struggle against it.
For darkness is insignificant in this world that is already clouded over.
What is it to be a city on a hill that cannot be hidden, and yet find oneself the exhausted lost wanderer; pillaged by the journey thus far?
Focus:
Faith.
Hope.
Love.
Where is the love?
