#this is very unpolished pls forgive me for my heresy

[nothoney]

“Have you found God, Wendy?”

Yes. In the back of a camper van in 2009 with a hillbilly and a crack pipe, I think. 

I don’t tell him that.

“No.”

“Do you know where God is?” he asks. Simultaneous in His expectation and rhetoric. 

Not here. 

I pause.

“No.” Again. 

He smiles priestly. 

“He’s right here.” Arms spread wide, like two metal chairs in an empty room could ever count as worship.

I smile belatedly. Unsure whether I’m allowed to even tick my foot, for He might hate it. 

“Father,” I said, though he’s not, “have you found God?”

He chuckles this time and looks at me like a child, because I am, in His eyes. He waits a moment, almost as to pour his thoughts telepathically to me- though I thought he could only do that with God? 

Time stretches too far for my comfort so I smile to reduce the bubbling anxiety of being in His presence.

“I have, my child.” he says finally, and I think. 

I think who’s child?

Still intensely nervous and trying my God-damn hardest (sorry) not to twitch, I smile.

I want to laugh in his face and call him a liar. A cheat. A psycho in black. I want to tug on his collar and watch the white cassock fall off and then I want to point at it and watch him stare and I want to say: 

“See? You’re just like me.”

Instead, I smile. 

He hasn’t, I think. He is still searching like me.

#040522 #like me #this is very unpolished pls forgive me for my heresy