4/20
I have a problem
with people. They overly complicate things and take in the wrong meanings.
It's so hard
to communicate.
God, I haven't
talked to you in a while. I've been angry. The intense, smoldering kind of
anger typically reserved for one's nemesis. Or in this case, someone whose gone
and done me wrong. Real wrong.
But like the
southern Baptists say, Y'all motherf--s need Jesus. I know it's true and I'm
living proof of how He can change a life.
I know I would have
killed myself dozens of times over without my faith. Not because heaven's
closed to suicide victims, but because I truly believe there's more and that
You do have a plan for me. I wish I could see it.
Holy father, what am
I supposed to do?
I wish I could feel
your presence. But you never gave me that gift. All I can do is look back on
hard times and see where You were carrying me. And where we were both trudging
through enemy jungle in combat boots, machete in hand, wearing camo face paint
and cutoff vests, assault rifles at the ready. We were probably hunting
velociraptors.
Seriously,
why doesn't that stuff happen anymore? I want to go raptor hunting with Jesus.
He'd be good at it.
I no longer believe
in traditional relationships. Been there, done that, they don't work. Not in
this world. We don't need them anymore.
Why do they exist?
Because we needed to populate the world. Check. Done. Move on.
Gay? Fine. Lesbian?
Better. Traditional? Cool, but you better be cool about it. Sixteen people
ranging from 18 to 46 living under one roof, fucking and sucking every night?
Be careful, keep the clap at bay and have at it.
God gave us Adam and
Eve when we needed to populate the world. He also gave us imagination and
fingers.
Good first journal
entry. God, I'm still waiting for our playdate. Don't make me die for it.
