Restless.

And so she broke her voice in front of a mug of chamomile tea, trying to get rid of her desperation and fighting to stay in the eye of the exchanged lines across the table.

It has crossed her mind numerous times, at different places and in different contexts, in dreams and even alien spaces - the lightness of the world, as she desires for a shared moment in prayer with a soul who would see through her without judgement and choking bouts of condescending conversations.

It confused her, and she grew worried at the sense of shame when she set her foot upon the line of confession. While the bewilderment on discrimination stood firmly, there was an unmistakable vision which managed to survive the dashes through doors of temples, singing sleepwalkers and passages written by Dawkins.

I should stop using this third-person shield. It's getting tiring, yet I cannot bear the vulnerability I throw upon myself.

The vision has been haunting me for quite awhile now. Am I being too arrogant? Too idealistic? Am I just running away from the fact that every second is a transition and there is still a long way to go before something better and more deserving triumphs over those books of yesterday?

The image will never go away until I have enough courage to face it, I guess.

It's just a room of two people, holding on to each other, and sharing a moment in prayer. It calms my mind just by imagining it, even more when I put myself in it. The temperature, and the texture fall in place so perfectly. Prayers may never work, and may never be answered, but its purpose seems quite apparent here. Yet confessing that this is what I have been longing for brings about a tinge of shame, and I have no idea why. The tension is overwhelming.

I will never sway from my calling, and yet that vision haunts me. What's the use of this confession? Double beats scored every second for the heart, and a whole lot of uneasiness? There are no fingers pointed for claims of betrayal, but I know where I must go eventually.

This life is too long for impatient answer searchers like me.