Black Paper.

We sat in that room and it was dark.  Well ya the lights were dimmed real low, but it was the kind of dark you can taste.  I looked around and I could see little spurts of light, here and there.  And those lights were usually smiling, not only with their mouths but also with their eyes. 

Then I looked some more, and I didn't have to look very long to see many many black holes.  Especially when they spoke, I felt the foggy, thick, black trouble that they go through everyday.  

The deep deep love that they spoke about, was in reality only the thin top layer of their hearts.  

Why could these black holes only see what's in front of them.  Black paper is surrounding them, making them think that this is how it will always be.    

I found myself tearing down black paper this year.  I didn't know, but I started to build it up around me.   

I looked at my hands, and noticed what they were doing, I looked at those around me that were covered and didn't know where to start to tear.  I did not want to be like them.  And I knew that the black paper would never make me happy.  

Isn't it obvious to see that black paper won't make you happy?  It never has and never will.  

But so many people in that room were covered.  Some had layer upon layer upon layer of paper.  Stapled, taped, glued.  And we saw it, we could tell that we were different.  We were able to see so much more.  

Cliché phrases, artificial tears, and black paper is all we saw and heard.  

And that's why we didn't listen to music on our way home.  We didn't talk about the paper walls that we almost built for ourselves.  But we talked about the hands that tore them down, and we thanked Him and thanked Him for all the beauty that was in our lives.