What is this force that helps me stumble along? More I think of it, when I start to think of what happened. It's like the cross that was heavy and Jesus still bore and carried it to Gol'gotha. Is this force Jesus carrying me? My pain, my torment, my fear? Perhaps though he can't be seen, he can be felt.
All I've learned, my scraps of religious education, feels like it's reaching toward epiphany. Realisation. When I feel like I have grasped it, doubt floods in.