Love and Hope

Today has been a tough one. I don't believe in gods. It seems almost beyond reason that I should. Why would any god create something so utterly beautiful if he meant to destroy it? No, I don't believe in gods. And so I don't have the comfort of unwavering faith to still me. I have instead an easily broken heart and a lump in my throat. I have tears, some spilled, some frozen, in waiting. I skitter about in the peripheral vision of a friend, helpless and horrified. I have hoped with all my might. I have lingered over photographs and sent my invitation, and if that doesn't do it, nothing will. I have sent thoughts and love into the wild. I have chewed my restless fingers and shaken my head in anger. I've been here before.

Tonight I hope there is a god because I'll spend the night on my fucking knees praying. I will be all heart and silence. Any god who pulls off a miracle tonight, will have my conviction by morning.

A Promise to a Friend

I am a shameful lamb, letting out an indulgent noisy bleat before condemning myself to cry silently in the dark, with all the crushed hearts and battered souls. For this hole is not mine to fall into, this sickening grief not mine to claim, and if I could take away an ounce of pain and inflict it a thousand-fold upon myself, I would. And not complain. I'd smash it and beat it and melt it down, dilute it with tears and make it wish it had never been born.

Every year on your birthday, I won't light a candle for you, or bake you a cake. I'll make myself a findus crispy pancake sandwich and eat it in the dark, with ketchup, and a headlamp on so I can see my Hanjie puzzle. I'll bob about like an angler fish and I'll try to laugh. I really will, but I'll be missing you. My love goes with you always. Bleat over, and out.