Pressure Perfect

It tightens my throat,
it turns my stomach inside out.
I am short of breath.
I tip toe through social situations,
smiling heavily to take the focus off of my heavy chest,
and the sweat building on my neck and forehead.
I feel constant pressure. 
Pressure to be perfect.
Pressure to know all the answers,
or what is best to remedy troubled relationships.
No one acknowledging that I too am going through this life,
unsure which route to take and using my best judgement to do what I believe is right in God's eyes.
I wish people would understand that I too am terribly flawed.
I'm a sinner.
I do NOT know everything.
I make mistakes.
I take risks that sometimes don't work out.
I am by no means perfect.
I too didn't deserve Jesus' love.
But yet I received it and therefore do deserve it.
I do what I can to please my Lord, but constantly fall off the path.
I just wish someone would come up to me and tell me they recognize I'm sinful, and no means saintly.
I would close my eyes and my lungs would fill up with oxygen that would revive my soul.
Tears would get heavy and stream down my face, and
I would respond with a simple, "Thank you."

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