Some days I feel strong. I feel omnipotent, like I used to.
Other days, I feel mortal.
And sometimes I feel frail and fragile and broken into pieces, so much smaller than a man.
A simple menu. Choosing what to eat is such a basic decision when compared to the decisions I have made and the surety, the certainty with which I made them, that it is ludicrous to Me that I can sit here struggling. I want to laugh. And yet, here I sit, unable to choose between ten options of food. Knowing that I can’t even narrow it to two reminds Me how close the tears are.
I have no use for modesty; My achievements to date are phenomenal. It is no small thing to feel paralysed and to assign so much weight to the choice of starter or side-dish, as if the wrong choice would threaten the balance of everything.
I felt strong enough to get out today. To go out in company and eat in public. I didn’t think the choices would cause Me to stammer and lose My composure.
I cannot trust in My own strength. In My own omnipotent power.
I cannot trust in My own knowledge. Like ailing, untrustworthy eyesight, what use is faltering, failing omniscience?
I must strengthen, but I will weaken further first. I don’t know whether I have the strength for that.