Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

I stopped dreaming when I met you.

Because I thought my dreams had been realized,
and the pleasant but unnerving reality that had quietly eclipsed. . .

all that I had once thought. . .

. . .I wanted.

Became my only new dream. To make my reality so pleasant that it no longer made me frightened that I had let my dreams whither and die in your charms.

But I failed. and now my reality lies still, as broken as the dreams I once guarded viciously.

Did I love too much? Hold back too little?

Did I let myself see myself in the mirror one time too few, and forget who I was, and what I meant to myself?

And when I met myself, and replaced my dreams with my reality. . . was I being honest for the first time, or beginning a long string of lies?

When did failure become my modus operandi? No-one else sees me this way. Just me. Am I failing at everything, or just refusing to succeed? Did I withdraw so far because my personal and professional dreams were intertwined, and when I realized I had destroyed the one, did it terrify me that I might not be capable of the other?

I once told you that you could be whoever you chose to be. But have I frightened myself so badly now, that I will never choose to be the person I once dreamt I would become?

And all these fears and doubts still hide below the polished veneer that I have made of my bravado and self-confidence. Push through just a little, for my sake, and not your own, and you might find me cowering there.
But if you find me, will your shock at my condition drive you away, or spurn you to try and aid me? Is there any help for the helpless?

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.