Dear God,
They say that you’re not real
they say that you’re just a figment of the imagination, that you’re an idea
something that people can only
believe in
but I know you exist. Why?
Because I met you, you were there all along and
… I believed

You were mesmerizing
it all seemed true, all the myths, all the legends
you possessed something and I couldn’t put my hand on it.
A heightened sensitivity to the promises of life.
You weren’t subjected to the laws of the world
and that’s why I needed to believe in you
that’s why whenever you spoke, I’d listen. Whatever you’d hint at, I’d comply.
That’s why I made the 2 hour commutes to your home every other day because to me you represented everything and nothing
you were a contradiction

I believed in you, believed harder than anything that I’ve believed in before
maybe in the process, I’d become more like you
but how could a mortal ever hope to fare against a God?
How could I have expected you to only see me?
God created life – man. But to me that meant that God created me
me, not some other man, me.


You held the answers to all the questions I had
so I chased you
you eluded me
the more I tried to believe in you the further away felt
but no matter. I’d run faster, stretch out my arms farther

I don’t remember when everything started to change
When I started to think that you're a fake,
And that we were just prolonging the inevitable
It couldn't work out because my faith was wrong
I think we both knew that in the beginning
Everything you did just validated my ideas
so when I found out you cheated on me and never decided to tell me, I didn’t even care anymore.
But I never really knew you
and it wasn’t until two months after we separated that I started to touch the surface
it wasn’t until I didn’t want to believe in you, when I didn’t care about you
that I finally started understanding
you’re not as complicated as the other religions make you out to be
you’re pretty simple, really.

I don’t know what Love is and I don’t know if I ever loved you, and I hate thinking about Love, but I’ll tell you something that I do know
It’s okay. I don’t regret it.
I had fun.
But that’s all over now
So… Is it okay?
I’m going to… Stop now
Its okay right?
I’m going to stop stretching my arms. Stop running, stop obsessing, stop choking, stop crying, stop thinking.
I’m going to stop believing now