Prayer of the broken

There's no coming back from a first impression. This is the thought that is filling my mind today. I think it's valid, truth even. The only problem with it is that it's only a productive thought when it's thought in advance.
Thought in advance it's wisdom to be applied, after the fact, it feels more like a nail in a coffin. It's unfortunate when you find yourself inside said coffin.

The sound of the nail pounded unleashes the barrage of "if only," thoughts. And a desire for a mulligan at life, or time travel that does not exist.

The coffin is an exhausting place, there's no rest or peace there. Perhaps that's why in true death we don't actually remain there. Just another crazy thought.

The past is lost, but it haunts, and there is really no simple solution. There are no magic steps. The present is polluted by what was-- so much so, I have become the pollutant.

I want to disappear, which is kind of ironic since being too transparent seems to be my greatest... shortcoming? hindrance? failure?

It's hard to feel bloody, broken and bruised, and to feel like you haven't been careful enough about where you've bled. No one appreciates the stain on their own. Sigh.

If I could go back, what would I change? The answer changes, but as time goes on, the list grows longer. Mostly I'd change the way God made me, which seems like a sinful thought, but a true one just the same.

Being broken bites. There is no other way to say it. But I don't even want to hope for whole, it's anonymity I long for. I can't undo, unmeet or un-impress first impressions (or 2nd, or 10th or 1000th) so I find myself longing to be forgotten. But even fading into the darkness is a scary trip.

Jesus come, the only prayer I can even pray with confidence. Perhaps that is the true prayer of the broken.