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a passionate repentance



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may God stand
I'm a little confused. I sold a pen to someone for thirty dollars, but he hasn't paid me. I offered another pen (worth seventy) to someone for sixty but I haven't heard from him. I'm doing something wrong here.

I'm frustrated. My key won't fit any locks that I can see. I say the wrong things. I stub my toes. I knock things over and I don't fit in anywhere. I'm suddenly all elbows and knees.
I run into people's defense mechanisms. I can protest that I didn't mean to do anything, but in retrospect, are my motives that blameless really? I don't know. I just know I'm not sleeping.

Who was it that called it 'at sixes and sevens with the world'? I don't know but it feels right. Like I've discovered all the corners with my head. I've got to stop and find somewhere to sit, somewhere to think until things calm down. And the frustration goes down some.

I'm not a raving loony, honest. I just play one on TV.
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