Romans 9:21 “Or does not the potter have authority over the clay to make out the same lump one vessel unto honor, and another unto dishonor?”
Romans 9:22 “And what if God, wishing to demonstrate his wrath and make his power known, endured with much long suffering vessels of wrath fitted for destruction.”

Romans 9:23 “In order that he might make known the riches of his glory upon vessels of mercy, which he had before prepared unto glory.
You know what I get out of this? There are two kinds of man. Some who are destined to be good…and some that are destined to be destructive.

Why does this impact me so much…?

Because I always feel I am the second.
In my life I have learned how much what I say or write can impact me. (Duh.) But even though it’s so obvious, I’m sure not many people received a nine year jail sentence simply because of something they’ve once written. Lucky for you guys, because that was the biggest wake up call in my life. So I will try to get my point across as best as I can in this writing, without exposing too much detail that can bring me harm.

  But to sum things up, in comparison to what was written in Romans 9:22, I feel like I was born a vessel of wrath fitted for destruction. 

I feel that God deliberately made me a certain way, a terrible negative vessel just to “make known the riches of his glory”.
“No you’re wrong!” Is what Christians will say. “Everyone is given equal chance and is loved by God, and can be saved and “regenerated”!” Or whatever.
Well tell that to my heart which explodes with fury out of nowhere during the most beautiful times of peace. Tell that to the dark cloud that darkens the most beautiful light when I long to be happy the most. Tell that to my tears, not of sadness, but of fury. To my twitching arms and hands that long to crush and destroy, when there is absolutely no reason to.
Did I want to be like this? NO.

Do I enjoy being angry? NO.

Do I wish I was able to smile and be full of peace, love and joy? YES.
And sometimes I am…but for the most part, I’m not.

It brings me tears which I never show. I have to fight my random bursts of evil nature every day. I control it with terrible music and an effort to accomplish as much as I can in writing and work and creation and progress, in hopes that I will feel better.

  But at the end of the day, it’s not enough. The only thing that will bring me peace is my own end, or the feeling of destructive power, which I have lost due to old mistakes.

And good thing too I guess. But now I am like an old wolf who lost his teeth, who still has the heart of a young warrior, and the adrenaline of someone prepared for battle. It’s the most helpless feeling in the world. It brings frustration, seething, anger, fury, confusion, depression, hatred that has no outlet.
Why?

Why was I made this way?
Is it a mental disorder? A brain chemical imbalance?
How long can I tolerate this? How long can I keep my stupid immature anger pushed down? Will I “grow” out of it someday?
God I hope so.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this is just a phase.
But as each day goes on, and as the buildup of anger and frustration threatens to escape, I become more and more convinced that I was made this way. And there’s nothing I or anyone can do about it.
What’s to do with people like me? I have no idea…

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