Why?

is my favorite question. Why was Jacob blessed above Esau? Why was David beautiful to God despite killing a man for no other reason than to be with the dead man's wife? Why was Job restored while I remain on my dung heap? Why was justice absent from my childhood? Why was I denied adolescence and adulthood by the onset of my disease? Why do some receive mercy from Legion by the finger of God, while I am left in full occupation?

I wander through my life expecting everything to have a motive, to operate on justice instead of order. Furthermore, I expect justice in exchange for virtue and truth. I give nothing but virtue, say the truth, and recieve not justice, but pain. I suppose sometime I'll have to reconcile with not being a favortite in His eyes. Admittedly, my armor of faith is more of an open screen door to torment from myself and others, but where is my protection? Why is there no herd of pigs to take away the Legions of my madness?

I admit it: I'm jealous of you. All those who wrong me end up successful; I end up more and more insane every day. Is it really so bad to want from my position? Perhaps the jealousy and coveting are the reasons for my misery, but where does that leave my happiness? I've long suspected that happiness lies at the tip of my Brother's knuckles or the lash of my father's belt: they succeed while I fail. However, if my task is to find joy in pain, I will always fail. I can endure a lot of pain, but I still can't bring myself to like it. I'm close with physical pain, as evidenced by the scars on my hands well documented in this blog, but the loneliness and melancholy will always bother me most, it seems.