Waking up this morning, I am greeted by the darkness and she is truly a bitch somedays. Today is a darker day, the last few weeks have felt fairly bleak, and I’ve lost my mojo in many ways. It’s still here of course, but it’s buried deep inside, beyond what is available to me now.

This action of writing is often a cry for help to no One, but God. Real human help seems as far away as my mojo. So with that whine, I begin this letter to God and I am two paragraphs in. There must still be something worth writing home about.

God… I miss you.

I miss everything about you and quite frankly, sometimes I need to cry about it. Like right now at 6:34AM after waking up. Alone. Again. If connection, family and friend, is what will save me from this suffering, then I have talking wires and a crazy-haired pup to keep me warm and awake to this suffering.

Other sufferers have reached out to offer help and I analyze, analyze, analyze, then decline their suffering code. The world’s strongest computer in my head doesn’t need another man to touch me, think of me, or tell me how awesome I am, we are, or Selah is (two names is just weird, btw).

I trust no One, but you…

God…I miss you.

Watching a talk about writing misfits yesterday, I feel like a totaled One. A seriously totaled wreckage of a life that now includes the stories of cancer, disease, divorce, abortion, restraining orders, illegal evictions and homelessness. Sure, I live in paradise and write letters to God in my spare time, but that excuse for living doesn’t seem to fully shield me from the swings of this life’s episodes.

With that, it’s time to get up and start this 01162018. Today…maybe you wash your hair? Though, I wouldn’t recommend it, you smell too nice (to sum).


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