What was I to you?

Often, I have wondered–what was I to you? What am I to you? Why am I to anyone, ever, at all?

Maybe you think I deserve nothing? Or maybe you thought I deserved better? More than you could ever give?

Honestly, a bunch of unanswered questions come to my mind. Yes, just more and more unanswered questions. About basement and rooftop bars.

About who I interacted with and who I rejected. What they saw in me? What they saw of me! Ha!

Oy, forgive me, The Father, for I have sinned. That is a sentence, an American reaction. A destitute delirium of an action. An unflinching retort-ion.

The Father, the one you supposedly report to, where is that dude? “Everywhere and nowhere.” That is the way of The Father, right? Or so many believe. Billions and billions believe. They have faith in something, you, The Father, supposedly.

Where are you? You hear their calls, the children, you created. Help us they plead with you.

Ok, ok. But when does the portal to Hell open up under Europe? And when do all the “purest” fall into said portal? Like when do the red lights turn to green? When do the secrets get seen? When does the word become flesh? When does that visible word become a healer? When does that healer become a savior? When does that savior become THE KING?

Humility. What is that? In a world of ego-maniacal-shameless-bloodthirsty-warlords [yes, one word], where is the peaceful and the humble? I am sick of the like-and-subscribe. The edited. The made-up.

Who has rest? Truly? Who has hope? Madly? Who has faith deeply? What is the answer? Who are YOU?

Save us. Show yourself. Have mercy on those you love. On those you know and answer my questions! Please and thank you.

Also. I am not going to respond. I am mad at you for a number of reasons, and I don’t want to just react, ok? So, have so much patience. Breathe mf’r, just breathe.