Distraction

It's funny, looking back now and realizing that I've done things that I abhorred in the past, still despise now. Why's it funny? Couldn't tell ya, except that dark humor's out about again, playing its tricks and counting its catches. I never intended for things to be this way: so shellish and unaccomplished. It's got me standing hid away in a hall of twisted mirrors. Can you find me? I don't think you'd like to; my true image isn't anything appealing, rather something to be shunned. And I don't want to be abandoned, so I'll keep hiding.
I find it even stranger that there's something that can slide these depressing feelings from my mind, like washing away sin as if it were a thin film of dirt. A strange thing indeed, that I do not face these feelings, or mask them, but that I simply forget them. Reasons are sent down to some abyss and I just smile in the face of my pretty little distraction. That's all it is, obviously: nothing that can stay. But God does it feel great at the moment: perhaps not the sensation, but the lack of it; the lack of memory when I'm smiling, and laughing, and holding on to dear sanctuary.