Know that I am God.

If I were God, I would breathe you a flower,

A majestic rose that curled like a smile,

Dimpled like the stupid creases of your face.

If I were God, I would cast into the sky an order,

Let the stars realign and make polka dots

So that when I look at them I forget to feel small.

Let them make freckles,

The kind you say you had.

Let me forget that I am powerless, let me just remember that it doesn’t matter,

A flecked and freckled sky would do that, I hope.

If I were God, I would knit together your common sense with reality and make it crazy-resistant. I would stitch together every shitty thing I’ve ever said to you and make a woolen bonfire, and I would ask you to apologize over s’mores.

But hell, I’m not God. There are no clear cuts answers, not where I’m looking.

There is no reason to be afraid, but who said that ever stopped me?

If I were God, I would knit my lips together,

Make me as silent as Ariel.

Then I couldn’t talk about any of this.

Then I couldn’t say things I don’t mean, not when I’m calm.

Then I wouldn’t feel the need to explain the crazy, which actually multiplies it.

Then I wouldn’t ask.

If I were God, I would have done it a long time ago,
I would have had the patience to watch me stammer out stupid things that aren’t true,

Or idealize things that should have been slower,

Or dance to things I was too afraid to sit with.

If I were God, I wouldn’t allow myself to complain. To keep trying to do anything but listen.

If I were God, I’d be selfish. I’d turn myself asleep until I could learn not to wait.

I wouldn’t be kind. I wouldn’t be patient. I would never be still.

There would be no peace because I have none so often. I ask for none, I wallow, I have none, I cry.

There is no peace! (There shouldn’t be) (There couldn’t be) (There won’t.)

I am not God; I wish I were less every day!

I wish I had more common sense.

I wish I could sit still.

I wish I also had stupid fucking freckles, being Emma Stone is hot, and I’m not even into her, but freckles are beautiful.

I’d like to look up at my sky and see freckles, because nobody else’s freckles are going to be quite as worth it, unfortunately. I’ve already tried to negotiate. There is no negotiating. It’s true.

I wish I could be calm. I wish I could slow down. I know that once I stay silent, it will be easier, but let me just say one thing:

There is so much I wish I could tell you. There are so many things I am forced to write down, and you honestly have no idea the amount of crazy that has died as a result of you being beautiful. It’s nice. It’s peace. It has breathed new life and hope into pockets of my loved ones you are unaware of, and it’s calm in a way I didn’t know existed. I don’t say empty words, I mean them, and you can’t protect me from something you don’t own. I am not her. I am Haley. And it was always enough. I’m sorry I can’t be your friend. At least, not like I would have been if I had even had the choice. But I can’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want to move on.

I want to shut my damn mouth and figure out what that even means in silence.

And until I can do that, I pray that I can trust God to help me do it.

There is no right or wrong.

Just the Great I Am.

I am so sleepy right now,

But there are few things that I know for certain:

One is that that my mind changes and always had on most everything, but this won’t change, I know.

Two is that waiting was never what scared me.

Three is that I can be still, laugh, dance, sing, cry, and do most things only because of knowing you, and it is good.

And four is that I don’t have the damn boldness to tell you any of this. Let it be a blessing.


I hope to sleep.

And with that,

I can finally shut up.


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I am a second-grade teacher and pastor-to-be who loves people. I spend my weekends with friends or wandering the museums of DC alone and with a journal, trying to put words on the places of the soul that still feel wordless. I spent most of my days at school trying to learn patience through my students and running on sheer nerdy passion. I follow Jesus Christ, and savor that as my most important identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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