Can I speak to you?Can I perhaps pontificate feelings that are stirring in the cavity of my broken upen chest?The center of my soul that has been beaten and torn down by the words and the hurt and the retrospective judgement of my past self.I apologize. What happened was my fault and i have to live with that as a functioning adult of society, but forgive me for i don't know how to adjust to the sole propriety of my sin. But this isn't a transfer. There is a legal distinction between my owner and business.I can see the split though it be but tiny,and i can see the light of hope push through it until it is a GAPING HOLEMy ownership rests with my FatherMy identity lies there too.So forgive mefor i do not identify with that person who hurt you.That wretched little girl who selfishly pushed her own agendaand forgot that other people have opinions.The little girl who thought that if she buried it deep in her heart that it couldn't reach out and bite anybody else. That little girl who if she saw the repercussions of her then so small actshe would stop without a second thouht. It's weird having to answer for your past self. You identify that you were stupid then and that you ought to be different. You know that the deeds that are taped to your back should be erased and removedbut those 95 thesis of your interpersonal church are hung on the door for everyone to seeand to respond toWe are our own Martin Luthers.BANGING ON THE BIG WOODEN DOORS OF OUR HEARTSNAILING the things that we see that need to be eradicated to those oaky doors.I see myselfas a log cabin. Sturdy and always there until someone pull out my lincoln log and points out a crack. My whole foundation falls.And today I found 95 cracks in my foundationready to all break open like an over flooded dam. Today I broke and spewed my innards across the high speed connection that lead straight to your inbox.And today I drowned you in my own personal conviction.I saw my need to fix it so largely that I didn't see your sign taped too. Reading, " Gone for construction. Remodeling. Reopening soon!" Your lincoln logs fell through.You weren't any more sturdy than I was and I unjustly needed you to hold the weigh of my guilt and fear that I wouldnt ever get this off my record. I needed to know that my house was whole again. I NEEDED to feel the shiny newness of a recreated being. BUT I LEFT YOU IN SHAMBLESHoping that you would pick up your pieces and mend fences between our yardsand restore our lawns to their original condition. Shiny and new. A speck or twoBut overall in working order.Getting cleaner everydayBeing watered and tended to.But yard work isn't as easy as putting miracle grow and hoping that the crack are filled.It takes time and tillingand heart for refillingthe holes that have gone down to the coreGod gave me a lesson in farming todayHe said, " Plant My seeds and watch them grow. Bring the bad seeds to the light and watch them shrivel up. Plant the good seeds and watch them root and take hold and multipy like mold spores."So today I made a promiseTo GodTo youTo myselfTo plant a good seed everydayOne for my yardOne for yoursand one for the park. because i want the world to be filled with the beatings of my heart.I want people to see and to feel the fact that I pump out love that's wild and kind of crazy and creepybut its okay because I care for people so very deeplyThat I am genuine and trueThat I have a heart for mending broken fences and for fixing houses tooSo I promise to lend a helping hand whenever you may need itand i promise to work on my own lincol logs but to not be too concieted.i'm sorry for the things that i've done my love but i may only speak on behalf of the things that I knowI know a few things in this open chasm of emotions and opportunity that i can call our livesto know that you cannot sowa seed that has been broken is to find a deeper understanding to how our hearts work Today I read a poem that said,"When I was little I picked up a flower and put it in a vase. After a few days it died.When I asked my mother why i happened she said, " you can't force a flower to thrive where it doesnt belong."This poem, my dear, is a promiseTo not force anything to grow where it doesn't belongHold me to itFor i cannot think of a better person to help keep my heart lit and get me through this.