A recurring conversation I have with myself

Me: This is all so unfair.
I: You were never told to expect life to be fair.
Me: I'm tired of testing. I'm tired of fire.
I: Fire refines. (§)
Me: But I don't deserve this.
I: Deserve?
Me: The whole process seems demeaning, disrespectful even.
I: Meaning? Respect? Why should you expect that?
Me: I've kept my promises. I've remained true.
I: Nobody keeps their promises.
Me: But I did...
I: All have fallen short. (§)
Me: Then how can I possibly presume to be worthy?
I: Perhaps that's not for you to determine.
Me: How will I know if this other person is worthy of me?
I: Perhaps that too is not for you to determine.
Me: It all seems so hard.
I: You can accept that hardship is a pathway to peace. (§)
Me: But I'm tired of the hardship.
I: The Master's yoke is easy and His burden is light. (§)
Me: I think it'd be easier to just be alone.
I: It is not good for a man to be alone. (§)
Me: But must I always start from nothing—identifying myself, defining myself, defending myself?
I: The creator creates Ex Nihilo.
Me: Right. The creator creates.
I: Yes. You are a new creation. (§)
Me: But what of my past? My choices? My history?
I: The old has gone, the new has come. (§)
Me: Sometimes change terrifies me.
I: God is a God of peace, not disorder. (§)
Me: Then why the turmoil?
I: You are continually being transformed. (§)
Me: But what will happen?
I: Let tomorrow worry about tomorrow. (§)
Me: When will it end?
I: It is already completed. (§)
Me: How can this be?
I: It is. Amen.
Me: Amen.