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."